


Andy

by AndyBiersacksMissingRib



Category: Andy Biersack - Fandom, Black Veil Brides
Genre: Adventure, Car Accidents, Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Death, Drama, F/M, Ghosts, Matter of Life and Death, Mystery, Paranormal, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Suspence, abandoned house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 10:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 50
Words: 109,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18207368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyBiersacksMissingRib/pseuds/AndyBiersacksMissingRib
Summary: AndyAndy Biersack was the boy from Pendant, Utah.The boy who never fit in, tried to end his life, who was so absurdly weird, no one understood him.He was like me.Liked to watch the rain, liked to be weird and listen to angry music, although a happy person, most of the time...Andy was the boy no one ever gave a chance.Andy was the boy who thought the world was better off without him, until it took his life without his consent in a traffic accident gone wrong.Andy was like mePerfectly normal, but no one else saw it.No one else missed him until he was gone.Note: This story will deviate from a few things in Andy's life. He'll make different mistakes, and different things will have happened to him to make him how he is, so don't get upset, I'm giving you a fair warning.Black Veil Brides/Andy Biersack fanfiction X OC***This story includes: Descriptions of suicide, drug overdose, cutting, violence and language. Read at your own discretion.***





	1. Die.

I skipped down the chapel's front steps just as the first rain drops began to slip free from the clouds above. I smiled, grateful for the rain. I loved the gloomy feeling that came with the drops, like fire, it felt like balance returning to earth for a little while. There was nothing that compared to sitting in the burned out house on Apture Road, watching the rain trickle off the roof, dripping off the vines that consumed the remainder of the building. Just watching that rain, and thinking about life, was one of the single greatest things in my life.

Of course, I had other things. I'm not jumping straight in, saying I cherish rain, fire and death themes. If it makes you feel any better, most all of the clothes I own are white, because I don't like black. For that reason, I dyed my hair emerald green the year I turned thirteen, because my parents finally consented.

I'm quite normal, by 'normal' standards. I just liked a few different things.

I went to church on Sundays with my family, had responsibilities, never really spoke out against my parents’ authority, for two reasons: (1.) Their arguments were fair (2.) They kind of scare me.

So... If you were expecting some angst filled, black loving emo bitch to be telling this story, sorry to disappoint. You should probably just stop reading now.

Ha! You didn't stop. I like you.

Anyways, to be fair, I'm just going to tell you now, I'm kind of everywhere... I'll bounce from one topic to the next with reckless abandon, because I'm creative and have trouble organizing my thoughts like that.

Anyways! Back to the story...

I looked up at the clouds, slightly illuminated by the hidden sun, which made them lighter in some places, much darker in others, but still a welcome sight.

My parents murmured a conversation behind me while they stood on the sidewalk, speaking about what errands we had to run afterwards. I had already spaced out and pulled my MP3 player from my pocket, and was already scrolling through my massive collection of tunes from a variety of genres, trying to find something that fit my mood. Primarily because I had a writing project that I needed to work on for school, and I'd procrastinated so much most of my time was gone, so I'd start a draft on my phone and begin actual work when I get home later.

I finally settled on some My Chemical Romance and looked back at my parents, realizing they were already heading up the left running sidewalk, towards the car, while I stood here getting drenched on the sidewalk like an idiot.

With a huff I hurried to catch up with them, nearly wiping out on a slick patch of cement on the way. I've always been a generally uncoordinated person, and to be fair, and honest, a complete klutz. On level ground, in perfect weather, tripping was still a fear for me.

All right, a bit about my parents during this slow, walking time. My Dad is part Italian, and he loves to show it, by using a forced accent at times. Most of the time he acts American, like he should. But at random times he just likes to embrace his weird, Italian side, and act out by saying some phrase or something.

Aside from that, my Dad is a construction worker, a contractor. He spends a good bit of time analyzing blue prints for faults before giving them his seal of approval for building. It always interested me how he'd do his job. I liked to watch him in the mornings before I went to school, tapping or chewing on the end of his pencil while he looked over the papers, sometimes sketching minor changes into the plan or writing notes on the margins of the blueprints, then calling up the company he was working for and discussing the possible changes and errors with an advisor.

Dad could be a straight-up hard ass sometimes. He had a natural authority to him, and sometimes he abused his power. Annoyed as I might be at the time, I eventually grew to understand his decisions.

As for Mom, she was kinda the same, with the authority thing. Only she often had a softer approach to the situation. And since I was an only child, it required optimal patience. I tried to be a cooperative kid, but sometimes there are just things you have to argue, because you truly disagree with it, and it can wear a parents' patience thin pretty quick.

Mom is originally from New Jersey, but after she married my Dad, they both moved to Utah together, so Dad could take his contracting job and Mom could begin her work as a seamstress for a fashion company that was starting up.

As for me, I am sixteen-year-old Ash, going to school, adventuring, reading, and day dreaming too much about the wrong things. I rarely think about what my future might consist of, because to be honest, most of my time, I'm thinking of different band related scenarios.

I climbed in the backseat of my parents' old Toyota, and immediately began typing up a rough draft on my phone.

But after a few different tries and angles, I still hadn't come up with any good story ideas. It all felt repetitive, and not something I felt like committing myself to writing. If I didn't feel the idea was good, I had a hard time making myself work.

"Oh my..." my Mom whispered, and I looked up at her. Her eyes weren't on me, nor my Dad, they looked out the windshield, fear and stillness in her eyes. She watched some distant scene with the greatest level of remorse in her eyes.

Curious, I pushed myself up in my seat and looked out the windows. The first thing I noticed was the flames. The flames being tamed by a cluster of firefighters, backed by a pack of EMT's, gathered around someone on the ground.

Dad pulled over, but I was barely aware of the movement. I looked out the window, unable to tear my eyes from the scene.

An overturned pickup truck, going up in a wave of twisting, amber flames lying in the middle of the rain slick asphalt. There was a body sized hole through the windshield, and a large amount of blood staining the paintjob of the hood.

It wasn't until I hear my Mom frantically shouting my name over the chaos that I realized I'd climbed out, and was hesitantly approaching the EMT's. Did I truly even want to know? Why did I want to know? Couldn't I just leave well enough alone and accept what happens?

I saw the EMT's try paddles on the victim for the second time in the past minute. I counted silently in my head, I crossed my fingers and pleaded. My lips vibrating in a silent plea. I prayed quietly that they could save him, that they could get him to draw a sharp breath and come back to life.

Minutes drug out, and hope was dwindling. It was becoming saddeningly clear, he was gone.

My Dad's hand settled on my shoulder in reassurance, but I just wanted to know if the boy had made it, if he would...

The EMT's signalled to the growing crowd, a disheartening wave of their hands, which meant for everyone to clear out, nothing to see... He was dead.

They brought a stretcher over to the body, covered by a blanket on the ground. I watched them, finding it impossible to tear my eyes away from the body, away from the EMT's lifting it onto the stretcher to load it up. And even more impossible was when a harsh wind blew the blanket back from his face. His smooth, white face. Cold as marble, eyes closed, still as stone.

The unrecognizable boy was dead... And there was nothing to see here.

I sighed and turned away, heading back for the car. My parents hurried to catch and keep up with me, but I didn't really notice. There was something far heavier on my mind, a memory burned into my head in sharp detail...

I just had to tell someone.


	2. Shadow.

When I got home, I went to my room and shut my bedroom door behind me. I changed out of my Sunday dress, into some more comfortable work clothes. I lied on my bed in silence for a while. Experiencing a level of grief that wasn't mine... It felt foreign, and it felt like I was looking in on someone else's life, and I saw things I wasn't supposed to.

I felt like I needed to put my thoughts to paper, but I wasn't sure how... How do I even begin to document everything I saw less than a half hour ago?

I decided to try, anyways... I booted up my laptop, set it on my computer desk by the window and sat there, looking out at the escalating storm while I worked to organize my thoughts. My jumbled, confused thoughts on the dead boy I'd seen in the street today.

My hands hovered over my keyboard, searching for the right words. The right words that expressed the right level of grief.

Was I even right to feel this way? I feel like I intruded, taking away from the quiet moment his family had with him. Assuming he had a family... I felt sorry for thinking that. I did, indeed, know nothing about the boy, so it seemed thoroughly unlikely that I'd get out a single thought. I'd just sit there, revelling in silence, wondering about him. Who he was, how old he was, where he lived... Had he always been a resident of Pendant, Utah? Or was he just passing through the town? A bluegrass tape playing on his pickup truck stereo as he rolled it in the street.

Was that who he was?

Or was he something else entirely?

A figment of night; a shadow. Maybe he wore eyeliner, and wore it dark. Listened to heavy metal, and maybe he sang. Maybe he had no family, but had enough friends that it made up for it. Maybe he was like me, and loved the rain.

Maybe it didn't matter.

I shook my head at how absolutely ridiculous I was being. Why did it even matter? I didn't know him, and all I could do was pay my respects and move on.

I furrowed my eyebrows and sighed. I just felt the slightly indescribable feeling of loss. The feeling that made you question the whole situation, and you constantly felt nauseous.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I finally stood up from my desk and pushed away the paper pad, that contained a small sentence.

I had no words for what I'd seen today. All I could think about was the cold, still face of the boy from the wreck. The boy looked at least in his late teens, early twenties, making it all the more tragic. No one deserved to die, especially not under such simple, regretful circumstances.

I flipped over the page I'd written on so I wouldn't have to continue to see how I felt. The few words scribbled down so vaguely replicated what I felt inside. My heart beat uneasily as I crossed the room and sorted through my dresser drawers for some pyjamas. A nice, hot shower should be able to get my mind off of things.

My head snapped up when a loud crackle of thunder sounded outside. The sky was ashy black. Swirling, angry clouds hovered densely over the town. The wind in the trees outside my window made them creak back and forth, and scratch at the wooden siding of the house. Storms made me uneasy, not rain storms, but thunder storms. The loud, random clashing of lightning and thunder got me on edge, and very quickly.

I took another deep, calming breath and looked down to concentrate on the task ahead of me. I reached for my dresser drawer, and the light in my room was gone. The house died out of light as every electronic in my room flashed out at once.

I remained very still. A dim darkness coated everything, making me even more edgy. I reached for the flashlight I kept in the drawer by my bed but stopped when I heard the wood floor creaking behind me.

My eyes widened and I froze, reminding myself sharply that no one was there. I was overreacting, and it was stupid. I took another needed breath and walked to the bedside table, working quickly to get some light back. The growing darkness as the sun died out outside made me feel suffocated.

More creaking sounded behind me, and I ignored it the best I could until I found the flashlight. I rummaged through a heap of paper jutting out of my drawer, searching for the flashlight. At last, I found it at the bottom. I flipped it on and turned around, my heart freezing in my chest, the flashlight falling out of my hand, and a terrified scream ripped from my chest.

The golden beam of light crossed the room, illuminating the entire corridor in front of my closet, where a pale, tall and slender figure stood. He was so skinny... And dark. He had dark black shadows around his eyes, and long black hair. I took in so many tiny details in a little amount of time, because a moment later, he was gone.

He looked so familiar... Who was he? More importantly, why was he in my room?!

My Mom threw herself into my room, her eyes wide and worried. "What's wrong?!" she cried.

"Huh?" I whispered, trying to catch my breath and slow my thudding heart.

"You screamed," she clarified.

"Oh... I thought I saw someone... I'm almost certain I did," I babbled, looking at the closet where the boy had been just moments before. My mom looked even more concerned now.

"Really? Who?"

"Uh... I'm not sure... He was dressed dark, was gone in a flash..."

"Like a ghost?" My Mom asked somewhat skeptically. I sighed as I realized what she meant... She didn't believe me, she thought it was my imagination... I took another deep breath.

"Yeah.. Kinda like a ghost."

I hung my head in shame and embarrassment. Maybe no one had been there at all... I mean, all day my head had been swirling in pointless little circles. In my craze, my mind could have conjured up the boy standing in front of the closet... But then, why were the details so precise? The little things about him I picked up so quickly. He had to have been there... He had to.

"I'm sorry..." I apologized with a shake of my head, "I'm just edgy because of the power outage."

My mom looked at me in confusion. "Power outage?"

"Yeah, didn't you notice?" I wondered, gesturing at the dead ceiling light.

"Ash, there is no power outage, your light is just off." She reached around the corridor and flipped the switch up, and my bedroom was once again bathed in warm light. I looked up in confusion, mystified by how that could have happened...

"It - it turned off!" I persisted, becoming scared. "I was writing, and the lights all went out. I didn't turn them off... Are you sure there was no outage?"

"Yeah. No outage... Maybe it's just a power glitch in your room." She shrugged. "Might've been all it was. Need anything else?"

I shook my head, too shaken to feel anything else but the terror building up in my chest. The tension of what had just happened, building up.

As soon as she'd left, closing the door behind her, I broke down. Absolutely terrified by what I had seen only a few minutes earlier, it scared me. Scared me because I recognized the boy... He'd been the one who died, not but an hour earlier, in this very storm.


	3. Stories.

School the next day was very tedious. I hadn't slept at all, and to tell the truth, I hadn't been trying all that hard. I was too scared and shaken to sleep. I kept my lamp on all night, lying with my back to the closet in case the boy turned up again, with my headphones on cranked way up until you could tell what I was listening too outside of them. They were turned to a friendly All Time Low album that kept me from losing my cool during the night.

My friend, Elizabeth turned up outside my first hour history class, and she walked me to biology, which we had together.

"Wow, Ash, you look exhausted," she told me after a few silent moments. I looked over at her and forced a crooked smile.  
"Didn't sleep," I simply told her. It wasn't a lie. It also wasn't the complete truth.

"Oh, did you hear about the car accident yesterday?" Elizabeth launched into the very story I'd been trying very hard to forget. "An old Pendant county high schooler, his name was Andy, I think," she said with a remorseful shrug. "I've never heard of him, but from the things I've overheard some people saying, he used to be the school outcast... Y'know, tried to commit suicide a few times, cut, listened to dark music, and was just weird."

I frowned as we walked, also curious as to what she was saying.

"He... Wanted to die?" I murmured, unable to find a 'kind' way of saying it. There was no light touch to saying someone wanted to die... That they hated themselves and their situation so much, they just wanted to cease to exist. Forfeit life...

"Yeah, I guess so. Back in his high school years, though. I think after graduation, he hung up around California for a while, got his life on the right track. Heck, I heard he was attending college classes. Was back in Pendant visiting some family over the weekend when it all went wrong, I guess." She shrugged again. Like me, she was trying to figure out how death was even possible. How it was more than fantasy on paper.

"It's a shame..." I murmured sadly, looking down at the ground as we walked to biology.

"Yeah," Elizabeth sighed in agreement, "I think the funeral is at the end of the week. There's so many high school girls, that are either talking shit on the guy, or are bawling because they knew him. There's no in between."

I considered telling her about my experience with the boy last night. But as exhaustion weighed in on my thoughts, I began to believe more and more, that Andy had never even been there.

I separated from her side and went to my seat by the window as the other students filed in. It was clear within a few minutes of watching the seats fill up, that this death was the biggest news Pendant had seen in a long time. It was all anyone was talking about, and it was making it harder for me to forget what I'd seen.

"-I heard it looked gnarly!" a jock squealed in excitement as he sat down. A girl a few rows down was dabbing at her makeup dramatically.

"-I just feel like I knew him, y'know? I feel like we were the same person."

Hard to see the resemblance.... She was one of those preppy bitches who didn't like anybody, even her boyfriend.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. With every swirl of my fingers, I felt the blurred image of the dead boy fade from my thoughts. When it was safe to uncover my ears, and the topic of every conversation was now settled on normal topics again, I sighed in relief and reached for my textbook.

That couldn't be the end of Andy, though... Because the teacher’s first words were, "I'd like to raise awareness of the death of Andy Biersack. He used to be a student here at Pendant high, and he passed yesterday in a motorist accident. May we share a moment of silence for Andy?"

I closed my eyes, and let my face fall peaceful, but under the table, I was clawing at my legs, at the dark denim fabric of my jeans, just agonized, waiting for it to be over.

Maybe what actually bothered me about the whole thing was, no one liked Andy when he was alive, but now that he was gone, that's all anyone cared about, and it felt unfair. Unfair that he couldn't be appreciated while he was alive, and it only took his heart to stop beating for people to realize that.

When the moment finally passed, I sighed silently in relief and got straight to work. I blocked out all the conversations going on around me, because I just didn't want to hear anymore second hand accounts. I wanted to know who this Andy Biersack fellow was for myself.

I made plans before class was out, that when I got home, I'd look him up on the Internet. I probably wouldn't find much, besides an abandoned Facebook account, and a half-ass written obituary, but still, I wanted to try. I wanted to try and appreciate the man in my own time, so I could mourn in my own way. Witnessing his death put me into a unique scenario, in which I was having a hell of a time getting over it. What I'd seen was going to take a while to erase, and beginning that healing process started with first assessing the issue. And the issue was finding out who the hell he even was.

Biology was out by noon, and I headed to lunch with Elizabeth by my side. We didn't speak much, and neither of us commented on class, because we were probably both thinking the same thing. The entire class, as well as the ones that followed it, were dedicated to the sorrowful news.

As the day drug out, I found myself frowning more and more, because most of what I heard were bad stories. And from what I could tell, this generation, the one that would hail four years after Andy's graduating from this school, still didn't like them. They swapped the poorly tasteful stories about Andy over school and through whispering sessions in class. I walked in on some girls in the bathroom, bitching about how they'd seen Andy a few years back, standing on the corner of Main Street with a plunger of drugs shoved in his arm, looking hazy.

A chorus of rehearsed, fake laughter threw me over the edge.

"Is that all you have to bitch about?" I demanded, looking at them all. They looked back at me in speechless surprise. They clearly hadn't been expecting my addition to their conversation.

"He graduated four years ago, and died yesterday. Everything that happened in his life is none of your damn business, unless he told you personally. Which, judging from the sour tone you all have for him, you didn't know him well enough to even begin to talk about him like this, and if you were friends, you weren't good ones. Fucking drop it, goddamn. He's dead. Quit bitching about what you can't change."

I stalked out of the bathroom before they could even breathe a reply. It just really pissed me off that they were taking this chance to glamorize his death. Death isn't beautiful. It isn't ugly... It just happens, and we can't stop it.

I felt my chest swell with sadness and the nerves from what I'd just said, and found myself running for the exit instead of my last class of the day. I skipped gym to instead hang out on the playground, hidden in the branches of an oak tree that had been there well over a hundred years.

I hid myself away, and allowed myself to think, and share my thoughts in private. I didn't like hearing the stories about who Andy was. I just wanted to know who he was in those last moments. After he'd gotten clean of drugs, and had been going to college. I wanted to know that him, not the him conflicted by bullying and depression.

When it was late enough to be acceptable for me to return home, I began the long walk. Since I'd missed my bus home over fifteen minutes ago. I just didn't feel like seeing those people again. Looking at their drawn faces, and fake pity. They weren't actually sorry that Andy was dead, they were grateful to have some new gossip to hand out.

I took deep breaths as I walked, and fished my headphones out of my pocket, just as the first rain drops broke free of the clouds.

As I walked, I felt like I was being watched, but I refused to look behind myself in fear that the spirit of Andy would be waiting there again.

I listened to half of Green Day's American Idiot, with one headphone in, just in case someone was actually sneaking up on me. It'd make them think I couldn't hear them, but I'd be able to, and it'd give me the upper hand.

When no one attacked, I finally looked over my shoulder, and of course, there was no one there. But I could feel them... I could feel their eyes boring into my back, and the odd thing was, the gaze didn't make me fidget uncomfortably. I actually felt quite safe under the glare of the unseen person. A guardian angel, if you will.

At last, I arrived at my own home. I unlocked the front door, since my parents were still out, and let myself in. Quickly, I locked it again, just in case, and dropped my backpack to the foyer floor and went hunting for a snack in the kitchen.

I flipped on the TV in the kitchen as a background noise while I fixed up a sandwich. Of course though, when I turned, the local news channel was spouting about Andy's death. With a sigh, I scooped up the remote and flipped through the channels, but everything reminded me of him in some way, and I eventually just turned it off.

I headed upstairs to my room to work on my homework from today, and listen to music, and of utmost importance, forget everything that had happened that day...

But then, I found myself seated in front of my computer, with Internet Explorer open, and the cursor blinking patiently. I had a few hours to work on my homework, but even less time to learn what I intended to learn before my parents got home.

I think I was more curious to see what he even looked like, when not covered in blood... I wanted to know if my mind had conjured up a proper replica or not.

So I typed... Reluctantly, I typed his name into the blinking search box and hit enter. My slow, dial up Internet slowly began its searching process, and I waited with the cursor hovering above the exit button in the corner of the screen. At any moment, I could just drop out of my adventure.

But I didn't... I let the page finish loading, and it, of course, brought up a few small results. The first two were from two people on Facebook. Neither were actually him. And the third result was a report issued from the Pendant County Police Department. I decided that would be the most honest of the results.

I clicked on the link, and within a few slightly impatient moments, that page loaded. It contained the Police Department's logo at the top of the page, as well as a case number and date of accident. Scrolling down, I briefly read the mandatory mission statement of the Police Department, and then I got far enough down the page to read the short statement on the case.

On April 13th, 2015,  
Former Pendant County resident, Andrew Dennis Biersack, was involved in a head-on collision with another car at the Creston intersection in town. No other fatalities have been released, and there is currently only one known death from the accident.  
Further information will be disclosed at a later date. Pendant County Police Department requests that all residents give the family time to grieve during this time.

It was short and sweet and uninformative. All I really learned was that his middle name was Dennis.

It hit me then, and I laughed at myself in embarrassment. Why did I care so damn much? Was it solely because I'd witnessed his death? If so, then I guess it's understandable. But if I wanted to forget so badly, I'd go on with life, ignoring the stories at school until this whole thing blows over.

It was something else entirely...

Maybe I wanted to see the boy again. The ghost of the boy, hovering nearby somewhere, making me feel watched again. Maybe I just wanted to know if what I'd seen was real or not.

Sighing, I hit the back button, and searched for further facts about the boy, but there wasn't much. He wasn't on social media, so there were no accounts to trace. No obituary had been written yet, and there were no obsessive bloggers posting their second hand accounts.

When there was nothing left to be seen, I turned off my computer, feeling farther from a solution than I did at ease.

My breath hitched in my throat when I heard the floorboards creak behind me. My pulse stopped altogether, and I feared that my immense interest had attracted his spirit to me.

I did not move or look behind me, because that always spelled out trouble in the horror movies. I just waited, and watched, frozen in horrified silence as the papers on my desk rustled, yet no windows were open.

The room became so still, it was maddening. I watched the papers, lying flat and still again, and I swallowed, trying to find words, something to say, something that would not make me sound like a complete idiot.

"Who are you?" I finally wondered when nothing else came to mind... No other confrontations fit the situation, in which I might anger the spirit and end up with a poltergeist.

I refused to look behind me, in case he was there.... It was the not knowing that was killing me. Knowing I might not be alone right then, made my hair stand up on end.

The air became cool, but nothing moved or changed. I waited in complete silence, listening for the tattle tale of the wooden floorboards squeaking. When nothing happened, I figured it was over and took a deep, calming breath.

"Does that really matter?" a deep voice replied.


	4. Self-Harm.

I spun around on instinct, and was acquainted with the familiar figure. He stood by my bedroom door uncomfortably, looking up at me with piercing blue eyes. My first thought was that he wore contacts... Above all else, everything I could have thought in that moment, was that he wore blue contacts.

I stuttered in surprise, and couldn't think of a word to say. Every thought and question I had dried up and blew away on the spot.

He was a very confusing person to look at, and he seemed fairly uncomfortable with how I was looking at him. Well... How did he expect me to look at him?! He's dead, and standing in my room!

"Who are you?!" I choked out, horrified that I'd been right, that he was very, very real.

He sighed, and shifted just slightly. "Well, if you have to know, I'm Andy. I thought you would have known that by now." He looked at me in disapproval and disappointment. "Considering I've been a topic of gossip, and all you can think about." He flashed a bright white smile, and I ducked my head in embarrassment.

"Now before you ask me the cliché 20 questions about death, I'll just jump the gun and we can skip this chapter."

My eyes widened as things clicked into place. This conversation wasn't normal, and it wasn't real.

"Mom!" I shouted, and prayed she was home. I darted for my bedroom door and he jumped out of the way in surprise.

"Jesus! Shut up!" he cried, backing up. "Why the hell are you even doing that?"

"Mom!" I shouted out my bedroom door, but my voice echoed back at me off the empty hallway.

"Even if she was home, which she isn't, she couldn't see me unless I wanted her to. A little trick I picked up last night. Speaking of which, I came to apologize. Then I'll be on my merry way, since apparently I'm not at all what you expected."

I stopped shouting for my mother and risked a look at him. Sure enough, he was there. Wearing a droopy, intentionally holey black tank top that ill fit him and did nothing to cover the mass amounts of tattoos he had. He didn't look dead, really, he just dressed that way. And if I wasn't so certain he was a ghost, I'd be calling him an intruder.

"You're not real..." I shook my head. My hands were starting to shake. I clasped them together, cold and clammy, trying to get my mind off of him, hoping he'd disappear. "You're not here..."

"Hey, uh, if we could have a normal conversation, that'd be great," he called out sarcastically. I ignored him and squeezed my eyes shut, and covered my ears. "You're not here, you're not here, you're not here."

I heard him sigh in exasperation. "Fine, you win. I'm not here."

Just like that, he was gone. But then, he voice came from behind me, and I spun around.

"I'm here."

He leaned against my desk with a smart-ass smile. Did he not see the fear and worry in my eyes? Did he not understand that he was supposed to be dead?!

"What the hell?!" I shrieked in terror, "Get out! Get the fuck out!"

My hands were shaking so bad and I couldn't even breathe. "Get out!" My voice rasped hopelessly, my breath came in shaky little puffs, and I struggled to catch my breath.

A dawning look of confusion crossed his face as last. "Hey, are you okay?"

I clutched my fists to my chest, eyes wide, not even focused on him anymore. I turned away and walked towards my bed, and sat on the floor next to the mattress and clutched my legs, hugging them tightly and shaking my head.

"No, no, no... Not real. Not real," I reminded myself, becoming more and more hopeless as the seconds ticked on. "Not here, not real. You're not real.... Not here."

He crossed the room and crouched in front of me. His crystal blue eyes were concerned as they tried to meet my gaze. "Are you having a panic attack?" he asked, obviously inexperienced with the process I was going through. I closed my eyes and wished him away, praying he'd be gone when I opened my eyes. This whole thing was more than I could handle right now. More than I wanted to try and handle. I was upset, and not in control. I struggled to take long, deep breaths, to calm myself down. It was only getting worse, and Andy refused to go away.

"Hey, are you okay?" Andy repeated, reaching out to touch my hand. A surge of electricity ran up my arm and I jerked my hand back and looked at his face. He was very pale, with a streak of black war paint across his left cheek. He had a piercing in his lip, nose, and both ears, and his eyes were shrouded in thick circles of black eyeliner, which made the blue of his eyes stand out even more.

Looking at his face and studying his features was distracting me from the real problem. My breathing slowed, and I kept distracting myself, looking at him, ignoring the obvious question.

"Yeah, just keep looking at me," he encouraged, ducking his head to meet my eyes. Mine were wide and panicked, and I was still involuntarily pushing myself backwards, away from him, and it was dragging the frame of my bed backwards across the wood floor, making a creaking squeal.

I hadn't realized that the tears had sprung to my eyes until I was wiping them with violently vibrating hands. My whole body was being racked with shivers. They ran up and down my arms and legs like a traveling surge of electricity, searching for a final destination.

Andy touched my hand again, his skin icy cold, sending another surge through my body... And the weirdest thing was happening.

Every touch unleashed more electricity, and instead of it wiring me all up even more, it calmed me a considerable amount. Like breathing in nitrous, I started to feel lightheaded, and calm. Like nothing could touch me anymore.

A hazy, lost smile lingered on my face, and a fuzzy black fringe around my vision began to close in. It closed in on his face, and his concerned voice faded, until it was just a murmur in the back of my mind, and I closed my eyes, the thudding in my ears silenced all else.

All else.

~~~

"Ash? Sweetie..."

My eyes slowly opened, and I was lying in bed. The sky outside was black, and the lights were on in my room now. The pounding against the glass of the window told me it was raining out, just as it had been for the last three days.

My mother sat on the edge of my bed, feeling my forehead for a fever, her face concerned.

"What happened? You're all clammy and tense."

I opened my eyes wider and struggled to gain my bearings again. I shook my head a little and pushed myself up. "I'm fine," I told her, blocking everything else out of my thoughts. Everything that could make me break down again.

I sat up against the pillows piled against my headboard, and accepted the glass of water she handed me. She reached for my forehead again, moving her hand along my temples, her warm touch soothing.

"No fever or anything..." she murmured and shrugged. "I just didn't think it was like you to take naps. You never do." She smirked. She was right, I couldn't take naps, they were an impossibility for me. I just lied there, tossing and turning, waiting for sleep to overcome me, but it never happened. Not like at night, when it just happened. You didn't have to think about it as much.

"Oh... I was just tired when I got back. Took a break from homework and took a quick nap. I think I overslept," I said apologetically, looking over at the bedside table where my analog clock sat.

"Are you hungry? I'll make you something to eat."

Surprisingly enough, I felt far from hungry. I shook my head. "I ate something earlier, I'm not really hungry."

I fidgeted under her gaze, silently judging and taking in everything about my behavior, trying to tell if I was actually sick or not and was just not telling her. Finally, she agreed. With a nod, she stood up and headed towards the door. "Let me know if you start to feel sick or anything."

I nodded in agreement as she shut the door behind her.

I refused to think about the events that had sent me into a panic attack induced slumber for three hours. I did not allow it back into my mind. However, that was impossible... As I got up out of bed and walked to my desk, there was a piece of scrap paper lying there on the desktop, and a message scratched into it that wasn't my own.

Sorry for scaring you. I'm still trying to figure this out. If you want to talk to me, just call out my name, I won't be far. If you do not want to see me, and I scared you too bad, I'll understand if you never speak my name again. Cheers!  
-Andy

I was confused by the randomness of his letter. If he was dead, how was he capable of doing any of this stuff? How come his hand didn't slip through mine when he touched me earlier? These were all questions that I craved answers to, but I was too wary to call out his name to the open air of my empty bedroom, to see him materialize from nothing. I wasn't ready for that yet... I hardly took it well the first two times I saw him, I doubt a third time is a charm.

I decided I'd try speaking to him tomorrow after school. I would try... However, I would set clear boundaries with him. If I began to freak out again, he’d have to leave, no exceptions.

I just kept wondering, as I worked on my homework later that night, what the hell is wrong with me? Any normal person would say absolutely no to a spirit trying to contact them. So why wasn't I? Why was I remaining open minded?


	5. Hello.

I finished my homework late, and went to school early the next morning. Like... Really early. I left before the bus even showed up, and I walked to school.

A cool, grey mist surrounded me as I walked the sidewalk to school. It didn't bother me much. Just as long as thunder didn't get involved, I was fine. I actually felt great, hidden in the fog.

I thought about the letter a great deal during the night, but I didn't dare utter his name. He'd be all too eager to appear and I might go into another panic attack, and I was not mentally ready for that yet.

I could feel the square of paper in my back pocket. Folded up neatly, precise and clean, with the slightly smart-ass message from Andy inside. It saddened me, in a way, when I wondered what he might've been like when he was alive.

School was doldrums as I entered the locker hall. Fortunately, I wasn't the only person early to school, but there also weren't a lot of people. Most of them were the go-getters, here early to give their teachers apples and be so far up their ass they could see the sun, just for good grades and a letter of recommendation when they finally graduated to college.

I hugged my arms as I walked to my locker, my backpack hanging lazily off one shoulder as I went. The hallway was cold and dim, because no one expected anyone to be here this early. I had no place else to be.

When I realized just how early I was, I got curious. I battled back and forth in my head. Telling myself no, I couldn't really stop myself from walking out the exit of the school, to the forest area just behind the grounds. I pulled out his letter and gripped it tightly, turning in a slow circle, certain I was alone. And I was being retarded. I needed to wait until I got home this evening before I could even think about summoning Andy from the grave. But still, here I stood, gripping his letter, an artificial artefact of his existence crunched up in my fist, lips poised, about to whisper his name to the silent air.

I don't know why I decided to do it right then, maybe because I feared being lonely for the rest of the day and actually wanted to be friends with Andy. Or maybe I just wanted to keep tabs on him. Either way, nothing stopped me from calling out his name hesitantly to the trees.

"Really?"

I spun around and sure enough, he was there. Leaning casually against a mossy tree trunk, dressed the same way he had been the day before, despite the frosty cold to the air.

He didn't shiver or rub his bare arms. He remained still and cold, watching me with his raccoon eyes. I wasn't sure what I was even going to say to him. He was watching me, waiting for me to speak, and when I didn't, he flashed a smile and shrugged away from the tree and approached me.

"Okay, so clearly you're confused. And to tell you the truth, so am I. I simply want to talk to you, and ask a simple question..."

I raised my eyebrows in fear as he approached, and said nothing. I was forcing the thought out of my head, that he had died a few days before.

"Why do you care so greatly for me? You never knew me." He raised his chin a bit. He was still smiling, to keep the conversation light, but I could see the true confusion behind his eyes.

I shrugged a little, a simple lift of my shoulders. "I was there... It just... I dunno, shocked me. Made me feel weird," I said. A cold shudder shook through my shoulders. "It's not even normal for me to be talking to you."

"I know." He paced for a bit. "Because I'm dead and all... Well just so you know, it's not because you can 'see the dead'. I can choose to make anyone see me, if I want to. It just requires a great deal of energy, and once that energy is sapped up, it's a while before I can do it again."

"So why are you wasting it on me?" I wondered in confusion. "Why not use it on your family? Say your goodbyes?"

He pressed his pale lips into a firm line and stopped pacing to look down at his feet. "Because that's the limit. See, death is subjected to all these rules, and that's one of them. I'm not allowed to be around family or friends in ghost mode, because them seeing me could throw off the whole, carefully balanced death thing."

"So... You simply cannot appear? Or you choose not to, to obey the rules?"

"I can't." He sighed, looking up at me sadly. "I would love nothing more than to say my goodbyes, and let everything be final. But life does not work that way, and there are no exceptions." He frowned.

"So..." I began, hoping for a change of subject. "Why exactly did you choose me as your afterlife companion?"

He smirked, and I could see the worst of it had passed. "Because you were there, and I was curious of you. Why you were reluctant to look away, and I assumed you were probably used to death, maybe a mortician's daughter?"

I shook my head. "Construction worker."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Okay... Minor slip up on my behalf. Mind explaining why you weren't weirded out at the time? Because you seem to be nothing but terrified of me now."

"Well, you weren't a ghost stalking me then," I pointed out, then I gave it some real thought. "I don't know. I guess I just wondered why it had to be you. Why it had to be anyone. I was actually pretty petrified by it." I shuddered at the memory, and still found it creepy that he was here now.

"So you were just in shock?" He sounded disappointed that it hadn't been more.

I nodded. "Not exactly what I was expecting to see, first thing after church."

"A girl of religion, I like it!" He exclaimed with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. I looked at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain himself. "I, ah, never took up religion personally. I mean, my parents were religious, but I just never identified with it." He shrugged.

"I'm going to be late for class soon..." I looked down at my watch. "Will I see you again later?"

"If you must." He shrugged. "I'll be around all day, anyways. You won't see me, but you'll be able to hear me, I'm sure. I'll see you later, kid."

And like that, he was gone.

I walked back to school, in a round-about way so no one questioned why I'd been in the woods. Fortunately, no one saw me exit the trees. They were more concerned with finishing last week's late test than concerning themselves with what some minor girl in the background was doing.

Unless you were Connor, the school's journalist, then you were always paying attention and looking for people to stalk.

I entered the school and headed to History without checking my locker first. I was grateful to find that Andy wasn't such a topic of gossip today, but he was still there, in the back of everyone's minds.

When I sat down at my Biology table the hour after, the one class I did not have a partner with, I noticed my papers shuffled on the table, and I knew Andy was beside me, leeched onto me.

"How come you only follow me?" I hissed under my breath so only he could hear me.

A quiet chuckle. "You're the only person I know in this shithole, besides the teachers."

I looked forward as, on cue, Mrs. Calander stepped into the classroom, wearing a fake smile like everyone else in this place. She helped introduce a new student; a boy with slick black hair and a Ramones t-shirt.

I pretended that there wasn't a spirit seated next to me, and that worked the whole class, especially after the new boy came to take the empty seat beside me, then Andy disappeared.

"Hi." He offered me a nervous smile as he sat down next to me. I smiled back, trying to not come off as tense and stuck up.

"Hi," I replied, "You just moved to Pendant, right?"

"Yeah, two days ago, as a matter of fact."

"Cool." I nodded, wanting to keep the conversation going, but Mrs. Calander called the class to order then, and everyone's attention directed towards her.

After Biology, Elizabeth joined up with me, but with the new boy by her side. "Hey Ash! This is my cousin, Mark."

I grinned at him then. Elizabeth had told me about Mark before. She just hadn't mentioned that he was moving to Utah. I felt more connected to him already, and he seemed relieved that Elizabeth knew me too, so he had a small circle of friends.

I stepped out of their group for a moment and excused myself to the bathroom. When I got there, I made sure I was alone.

"Andy!" I hissed, and jumped a mile when I heard his laugh behind me. There he was, leaning against a stall, except now, he wore a studded leather jacket.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked, easily distracted. He shrugged.

"Anyways, where were you?"

He laughed, "I didn't realize that we were such good friends already!"

I scowled at him in embarrassment, but I didn't deny it, either. With a sigh, I brushed off his comment. "I was just wondering where you went."

"Well after that kid took my place, I went and explored. It's been ages since I've been here... In fact, I had a favor to ask."

I looked up at him warily. "What kind of favor?"

"Back when I went to school here, I buried a capsule here. I can't dig it up, it's an ability outside my own. I need you to."

"Why?" I narrowed my eyes up at him.

"Because? Anyways, you might not want to do it during school hours. Sneak out tonight?"

"I don't know you! And talking to a ghost is still weird..." I mumbled. "And you're already asking me to sneak out for you. Do you know how long I'd get grounded if I got caught? Do you?"

He grinned and held his hands up in defence. "You don't have to, but I'd appreciate it. I'd also appreciate it if you'd stop referring to me as a ghost. It's rather distracting."

"Sorry," I apologized. "What would you rather be called? 'A figment of my imagination'?"

He frowned. "I am not amused. Anyways, I have to run... Some dead guy stuff to catch up on. I'll see you tonight, all right?"

"You're leaving?" I asked in confusion.

"It won't take long," he reassured. "It's nice to see you not having a panic attack over my very presence. Different..." he added on sarcastically with a genuine smile. "Being here all the time is quite draining, too. I'll see you around, kid."

"I'm sixteen!" I cried out in annoyance. "And I have a name." I frowned in embarrassment.

"Oh?" he inquired. "Well what would it be, because you've yet to tell me."

"My name is Asheen. I go by Ash."

"Cool. I'm Andy, friends call me Andy." He stuck his hand out in an attempt of a proper greeting. I hesitantly locked hands with him, surprised when there was no surge this time. He shook my hand once, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Although we'd only officially 'met', it felt like we'd made some silent promise. I was grateful to be past the stage in the relationship when I panicked about everything. But there was no denying, he was still a ghost, and still very dead.

I hurried to catch up to Mark and Elizabeth, already ten minutes late to lunch. Luckily, they'd saved me a seat.

"What took you so long? Did you fall in?" Elizabeth cackled when I finally sat down. Mark snickered, and I cracked a laugh.

"No, I just ran into someone in the hall."


	6. Apologies.

"Ash, is that you?!"

I looked up from kicking off my boots at the door as my mom stepped into the foyer, her hands covered in flour from whatever concoction she was making in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm home," I replied, and finished the process of taking off my shoes before I followed her to where she'd retreated back into the kitchen. "What are you up to?"

I looked over the mess she'd made on the kitchen island. Most of it was covered in flour, or dense bits of what looked like bread dough.

"Trying a new bread recipe... I'm not sure what it was, but something has gone horribly wrong here." She demonstrated by clasping her hands together, and attempting to pull them apart, where the strands of dough stuck to her palms, and dangled between her hands.

"Clearly." I laughed with her, going to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water.

"Oh, the funeral for that boy is this Saturday. Turned out the Alice and Frank Turner up the street were related to him. Aunt and Uncle, I think. It's really a shame..."

I listened to her, and wondered if that was the 'dead guy business' Andy had to take care of? Checking in on his Aunt and Uncle.

"They invited us to go. You don't have to, if you don't want to. Since you didn't know him or the family well. But I do think they'd appreciate it if you went," my mom hinted, looking up at me as I looked out the front windows absently. I was just wondering if Andy actually wanted me there, and if he would ask me myself to go.

Of course, I probably would. I'd pay respect, because whether or not I was having a strange relationship with him, his death still bothered me greatly, and I sought closure from the situation.

Though, a counter thought, how do you get closure when you're literally still talking to the deceased?

"And apparently, his obituary was released. It's in this morning's paper, if you want to read it."

I nodded nonchalantly, but the second she turned her back, I sprinted from the kitchen to the family room, where I'd find the most recent paper beside my father's rocking chair.

I scooped up the damp roll of paper and took it to my room, and laid out flat on my bed and began to search the pages for the story. I read ads for free couches and house siding, and then one on an apartment that was for rent just outside of town. At the very back of the newspaper, I found the obituaries. Andy's was beside one for an elderly man who used to run the bookstore in town.

The article was accompanied by a nice photo of Andy. No dark, emo makeup; no messy black hair; and no piercings in his face. He also looked a lot different age wise. It must've been one of his more desirable photos from high school.'

Andrew "Andy" Dennis Biersack  
Andy Biersack was born on December 26th, 1990, and passed away on April 11th, 2015, at 3:50 PM.  
His life was taken at the hands of a motorist accident.  
Andy is a longtime citizen of Pendant County, and had recently made a move to Oakland, California to begin taking classes at East Bay Community College for various topics he had an interest in majoring in.  
Andy has always been a very family based man, always making time for friends and family during his school years. Friends shared stories on Andy's behalf, everything from stories about him getting stuck in a tree at a young age, to tales of family camping trips.

I read through it, enjoying the little tales dotted throughout the piece, but I did take note that whoever wrote it obviously hadn't been close to Andy, and had stuck to just interviewing his friends and family for ideas on what to write.

His obituary was actually pretty short. I noticed that it left out all the less than desirable things about his life, as well. Like Andy got his first tattoo at age*.

Clearly no one appreciated those things about him, or even the little things, like his habits or hobbies. The whole thing was based around his family, friends, and life here in Pendant, and little to nothing about his experiences in California.

I put away the newspaper after I was done reading it, and decided to get a jump on my homework. I got in about an hours' worth before my papers fluttered, the tell-tale sign of Andy's presence, and then he was there, sitting on the end of my bed wearing his studded jacket, baggy tank top, and ripped black jeans. He looked like a Hot Topic love child.

"Hey," he greeted, not happily nor sad. He was just calm, watching me write. I was still trying to grasp his very presence right then.

"Hey," I replied. "Where have you been?"

"Doing ghostly deeds," he replied with a grin, wiggling his fingers in the air for effect. Then he sighed and looked out the window with a distant expression. "Actually, I was handling some 'human' deeds. Last goodbyes. With my..." He stopped to catch himself before continuing. "With my funeral coming up this weekend, I don't know how different things will be... Like if I'll have a chance afterwards to do this stuff or not. I just wanted to make sure."

"I thought you couldn't?" I wondered in confusion.

"I can't, that's the thing... But I worked in the loops of death. Sent an anoymous bouquet of flowers to my mother, with a letter. An apology, actually."

"Apology?"

He half smiled sadly. "I was never a good kid growing up, Ash. I did a lot of bad stuff and it broke my mom's heart. I've never really thought about it until now, and it's too late to change it."

I frowned, wary of where the conversation was headed, I was never good at comforting people. So instead I remained awkwardly silent, watching Andy hide his hurt by turning his face away. I looked at the tattoos on his hands, and the long, layered black hair that ran to his shoulders. He took slow breaths, and I wondered secretly if he even needed them anymore. It was a curiosity, but I was not in the position to be asking the fascinating details of his death.

"I wish I wasn't such a brat." He laughed, and it was genuine. When he looked forward again, he wore a bright, white grin. "I mean, seriously, I was the shits. No, I didn't deserve the shit I had to put up with in school, but some of the crap I did at home..." He trailed off, shaking his head and chuckling. "I'm surprised my parents never put me up for adoption."

I couldn't help the laugh that broke through my lips. He turned and grinned at me. "You know it because you're like that, too!" He snorted, and my cheeks flushed. "So neeeeeedddddyyyy," he wailed, and I was grateful that no one could hear him but me. "Like every other whiney, emo bitch on the planet."

Instead of getting offended by his comments I embraced them, because I knew I was the complete opposite of emo in every way except for my music tastes. I settled for shoving his shoulder. "Have you seen my closet? It's mostly rainbow colored crap."

"Oh, don't worry. I've seen that hippy crap you wear to school," Andy replied with a semi-serious expression, before it exploded into a fit of laughter.

I caught myself enjoying his company rather than quaking in fear knowing it wasn't real. In a way, it was almost like he was. And it was enough for now.


	7. Memories.

Andy shared with me some of his own tales. Ones that never, not in a thousand years, would have ended up in his obituary. We just hung out, ignoring the topic of death for a while and got to know each other.

I did have a small moment of panic, though. My mom checked in on me before she went to sleep, pushed my door open to say goodnight and my heart stopped for a second, but then I realized Andy had made himself only visible to me. My mom smiled, kissed my forehead, and said goodnight, all the while Andy mocked her and made faces, and I tried not to laugh to seem more off than I already was.

"I almost laughed!" I accused him with a glare.

He snickered. "That was the point... Hey, if you haven't noticed, I'm kind of an asshole," he clarified while shrugging.

Just after eleven, Andy stepped out of my room, saying he'd be right back. I leapt up from my bed and followed him to the door, and peeked out into the hallway where he'd disappeared to.

"Andy?" I whispered so my parents wouldn't hear. The whole house was dark, and they'd already gone to bed.

He materialized to my right. "Yep?"

"Quit doing that!" I snapped in irritation, and he laughed.

"Sorry," he apologized half-heartedly. "You're just easy to sneak up on."

I grumbled and slipped back into my room, shutting the door behind me. "What were you doing out there, anyways?"

"Making sure your parents were asleep before we sneak out," he declared, a grin on his face.

"No," I replied firmly, shaking my head. "No, we are not doing that."

"Why?" he whined, following me as I paced away from him.

"Because I don't need to be grounded? Have you not noticed how much my parents check in on me while I sleep? There's no way I'd get away with it."

"There is a 'we' in this, y'know," Andy grumbled. "Anyways, it's not like I can't do it myself, just, digging requires a greater amount of my physical energy than my other actions do. You don't have to go, I hope you know that, and you probably do. But know you'll be missing out on an excellent adventure."

He winked as he approached my window and threw it open. A swirl of cold, spring air came into the room, ruffling the papers on my desk beside the window.

"Close that damn thing!" I hissed, concerned that my parents would wake up and decide to check in. "Fine! Fine, hurry up, though. I have to be back within the hour, at least."

He grinned in satisfaction, sensing that he had won. I ignored him as I donned my jacket from my closet and put on a pair of leather boots, and replaced my simple night shorts with a pair of dark denim jeans.

"Make this fast," I threatened him as I walked past him to the window, climbing out onto the small, angled roof above the wrap-around porch below. "I do not need a broken neck tonight..." I muttered in irritation as I lowered myself over the eaves, and hung onto the lattice railing of the porch. I looked down and almost had a heart attack.

Andy was on the ground already, of course. Waving at me like everything was hunky-dory. I glared down at him in the darkness and continued to climb down from the lattice railing.

I dropped onto the ground beside him with a quiet thud, and took a moment to look at the surrounding houses, to make sure none of my neighbors had witnessed things they weren't supposed to.

As we crossed into the front yard, I yanked my dad's small landscaping shovel out of the soil of the front garden bed, where he'd left it days before after planting daisy bulbs. I gripped the handle like a dagger and crossed the lawn, and stood on the sidewalk in front of my house.

"One hour," I warned Andy, and I turned away and began to jog towards the school. He kept up easily, of course. He didn't get winded. He walked the entire way, but still, somehow, he always managed to keep up. I grumbled in irritation under my breath, that no matter how fast I ran he was always there. Finally, I just slowed to a walk – an annoyed walk, I might add. Andy continued his lazy walk, hands tucked in the front pockets of his studded black leather jacket.

"So tell me about yourself. Clearly, you're a marathon walker," I mumbled in annoyance as we continued down the last block to the school. He laughed. The clear sound echoed off the trees and houses on the streets. I looked around, wondering if anyone had heard him.

"Don't worry," he said, reading my mind. "Unless I want them to hear, they can't. I could scream that your neighbors are assholes while jumping on their chests, and they wouldn't hear a thing. I'm harmless, like a fly."

"A fly with piercings and tattoos..."

He gasped, pretending to be offended. "Ouch," he said with a wounded expression.

Quickly recovering, he matched my pace. "To answer your question, I think we would have been great friends."

I looked to him, where he walked just to my left. He wore a knowing smile, and his blue eyes sparkled, even in the dark. "We seem to be pretty similar. Weird as fuck, too."

I laughed at that. "I've never really thought about how weird I was, or wasn't. It just happened. Though I have to say, between the two of us, I know who the messed up one is."

He threw his head back in laughter. "Oh, you're cruel."

"I try." I smirked.

"Anyways, if you must know, I used to play baseball in high school. That's when a lot of my problems came along, too. I started to be bullied for some shit I did or didn't do, and it was just unavoidable. Once, I tried cutting. I didn't like it at first, it made me really nervous, so I vowed not to do it again." His tone had turned dark. I waited for him to elaborate.

"But..." His voice hitched for a moment. "Then there was this one day... I had learned not to care what they thought, but this one day, was just so damn bad... I went home, and I cut away. I didn't realize how bad it was getting because it was numb. I didn't realize how much blood there was until my dad walked in on me doing it, and called 911. I didn't even fight them... I was actually fighting for awareness. I'd lost so much blood I was going under. I did die... For a little while, and the afterlife was nothing to work towards." He shook his head sadly.

"It's not as great as they say. Fortunately, I came back. Was out of the hospital a few days later, and my parents fought the doctors on rehab. They didn't want me to go, didn't want to have to tell their friends their kid was in rehab for self harm, I guess. They wanted to help me themselves, so I let them try... But that was impossible. It became a temptation, though I never cut again. I did turn to something far darker... Heroin. I did all the worst shit. If I could get my hands on it, I was doing it." He chuckled darkly. Since it was all behind him now, he could laugh.

"That's when the worst of it started at school. I only had a few months left there. And if a rumor could be made of my life, it was. I was teased continuously about my suicide attempt. Poked and prodded, people laughed and asked if my life was really so bad, and would compare it to those starving in Africa. It made me feel guilty about feeling bad for myself. So I strived, and did my drugs, and carried on, until I ended up in the hospital again. This time for a drug overdose."

He took a deep breath and looked up from the ground. The school was less than two blocks away now.

"After that... I don't know. I just had a change of heart. I started taking my school classes over the Internet, and I didn't interact with anyone else. At that time, in my isolation, I started to get into angry, dark music, which in the end, helped me more than the therapy sessions my mom shipped me to. I finished out school, had my diploma shipped to me, packed up my truck and I moved out to Cali. I needed a change of scenery by that point. Needed to see other things, feel other things."

"So how was California?" I wondered. I'd never been outside of Utah before.

"It was great," he replied with a nod and a smile. "Right off the bat, I was able to score an apartment and a part time job in a mechanics shop. I felt like I was finally getting somewhere, finally treading water instead of drowning in it. I was able to surround myself with different people. People who actually wanted to do something with themselves, and weren't itching to put you down about everything."

I nodded and thought about that as we walked.

"How old are you?" I wondered. I had never really asked.

"As of death, twenty-five years old," he said matter-of-factly with a slow, thoughtful nod. "You said you were sixteen, right?"

I nodded. "I turn seventeen in October."

"My birthday is in December, the day right after Christmas."

"I know." I laughed, and he gave me a puzzled look.

"Huh?"

"I read your obituary this afternoon." I sighed, a chuckle escaping as I did so. "I don't think whoever wrote it knew you all that well."

He looked joyful that I'd taken the time to read it at all. He looked flattered. "You really read it?" He grinned in disbelief.

"Yeah? Why is this so surprising?" I laughed, looking at him warily.

"Because, well, no one ever did anything like that for me before. Back when I was in school, I had a shit time with writing class, because no one ever actually wanted to read what I wrote, nor did they want to read it if it was about me. So... That's different." He was still beaming as he spoke, not seeming bothered by his own statement, because he was so happy with his current thoughts.

I looked at his huge grin, and happy attitude, and wondered how someone like him could ever be depressed. But then again, there is that quote, the people who smile the biggest have the most damaged hearts. They encourage happiness on everyone else but themselves, because they never want anyone to feel like them.

"Seriously," he said through a grin. "That's one of the greatest things anyone has ever said to me."

"I only told you that I read your death statement, and you're happy about that. Yep, you're the most messed up person I know." I punched his arm playfully and smiled.

He laughed, and sprinted towards the school, and I ran after him into the night. The shadows of the trees hanging over the sidewalks hid me as I ran towards the forest area behind the school grounds.


	8. Holes.

"Okay, it's here."

Andy nudged at the ground with the toe of his scuffed -up plaid Converse. I looked down at the patch of soil, directly beneath an old spruce tree a hundred yards straight from the back doors of the high school. I crouched and plunged the landscaping shovel into the soft soil and began to scoop away handfuls of dirt.

"I remember burying this with my friend on my last day here, before I moved on to Internet classes. He was one of the few people I considered my friend in this shit town. He understood what I was going through, because he was going through it, too..."

I nodded, glanced up from digging, and caught the flash of sadness behind his eyes. He crouched in front of me and watched me sling the soil to my right as I dug deeper into the ground.

"What's wrong?" I finally asked when he failed to elaborate on what he was feeling.

He heaved a heavy, saddened sigh, and held it for a few seconds. I certainly wasn't expecting his next words.

"It's my fault..." he whispered, and his eyes squinted at the dirt in pain. "If I hadn't run away, I could've been here for him."

I stopped digging to look at him. Afraid to ask what had happened, afraid he'd lash out and say it was none of my damn business. And it wasn't.

"The day I left school was the hardest for him... We always banded together, stuck it out through the worst of days. Y'know, just the days when we got shit thrown at us and got called faggots, we leaned on each other... But when I dropped out for homeschool, he was there on his own. I remember getting a text from him one night, at three in the morning. I was half awake, couldn't process it right... I didn't realize it was a goodbye letter until the next morning when we got a call that they fished him out of Goldtwin River a few hours later. Maybe if I'd been there..."

He shook his head, and a silver tear welled up in his left eye and ran down his face, taking a track of his dark makeup with it.

My lip quivered with the lump building up in my throat. I looked at him, and couldn't bring myself to smile or laugh, or say anything light-hearted.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. I had never lost anyone like that. I had lost family and friends, but it was always natural causes, and it was okay, because no one was forcing their hand and they weren't forcing their own.

His pale lips pressed into a firm line to avoid a mixed up mess of agonized words from tearing from him like a pain written song.

"Come on... I need to show you this," he said, wiping at his face with the back of his leather glove-clad hands. I looked at him for a few more moments before digging down the last six inches, and pulling up an old, rusted metal lunch tote, and laying it on the dew misted midnight grass.

"That's it?" I asked, looking at it in the pale moonlight. I could make out the yellow and black Batman emblem among the rough patches of red rust.

"Yeah..." Andy breathed. He looked like he was pacing himself, preparing himself in every possible way for what was in the box. I scooted away, and gave him his space while he reached for the box, taking his time undoing the latches.

He sat there for a few moments, the box in his lap – unlatched, just waiting for him to lift the lid. With a quick, now-or-never breath, he lifted the lid.

I couldn't see what was inside, hidden by the shadow cast by the open lid. Andy seemed to be well acquainted with the objects inside, and reached for a photo that was on top first. He held it up close to his face so he could see it better in the dim light. I watched him tear up, and fight with himself internally for several minutes before clearing his throat and taking a deep breath.

"This was him... This is Ashley. Ashley Purdy."

He handed me the worn, weathered photo, and I accepted it carefully. Careful not to ruin his treasure.

I looked at it the same way Andy had and sighed, taking in the two boyish figures, covered in so much war paint you couldn't recognize them. They both wore huge grins and Mötely Crüe t-shirts, their hands forming the international symbol for rock on. Elbows interlocked, grins ecstatic.

"We went to a Mötely Crüe concert on my eighteenth birthday, just a few months before-" He stopped himself and looked down, seeming to be at war with himself.

I looked at it, and a small, sympathetic smile formed on my lips. I looked up at Andy as I handed him back the picture.

"You know I'm a dreamer," I sang, and I noticed the spark of excitement behind his dull eyes. They lit up blue again, and he smiled a tiny bit.

"But my heart's of gold."

"I had to run away high." I scooted up from the tree and sat cross legged, facing him.

"So I wouldn't come home low," he finished. His peculiar, deep voice matched that of Vince Neil quite well.

"Just when things went right, it doesn't mean they were always wrong, just take this song and you'll never feel left all alone," I sang back to him, and his smile was slowly growing.

"Take me to your heart, feel me in your bones, just one more night, and I'm comin' off this-"

"Long and winding road. I'm on my way, I'm on my way, home sweet home. Tonight, tonight, I'm on my way, I'm on my way, home sweet home." We sang the chorus together, and by that time, we were laughing too much to actually be taken seriously.

"You know that I've seen, too many romantic dreams, up in lights, fallin' off the silver screen!" Andy wailed the next verse in a high pitched, out of tune tone that clearly wasn't his own. I rolled back on the grass laughing.

"You sound-" I snorted on my laughter. "You sound like a clown!" I laughed hysterically, and he joined in, grinning.

"My heart's like an open book, for the whole world to read, sometimes nothing keeps me together at the seams," he continued to sing in his fake clown tone. My laughter evolved into the rage of snorting and giggling that no one should ever have to hear, and that only made Andy laugh even harder.

"Oh man," he said as he finally came down from his laughing high. He took a moment to wipe a tear of joy from the corner of his eye. "That's the most fun I've had in years!" He clapped his thighs, and got up from the ground to wipe the pine needles off his backside, turning to offer me his hand.

I grabbed it, noticing once again its peculiar feeling of ice, and pulled myself up beside him. I clapped his shoulder playfully. "You're such a dork."

He grinned as he turned and scooped up his Batman box and the photo of Ashley off the ground, and kicked the dirt back into the hole with his Converse-clad feet. "I accept that as a compliment," he said, his deep voice vibrating with a chuckle. I stuck my tongue out at him as we began walking, and he blew a gust of air into my face, which felt more like a cold breeze than an actual breath. I swatted him away all the same.

"I appreciate you coming out here with me," he said on the walk back. "It's been a little over an hour, though. I hope your parents don't mind that you've been abducted."

"I'm sure they won't mind," I added on sarcastically with a grin.


	9. Night.

Within a few hours the sun was coming up, and I was cranking out my homework assignments like a madman.

I stayed up all night, took out my contacts and replaced them with my 'nerd glasses' so I could work comfortably. Andy kept me company for a while and sprawled out on the bed, telling me random stories and facts about himself while I worked. Surprisingly enough, my parents never barged in and found me wide awake, talking to myself.

Though another interesting fact I learned during the night is, apparently, ghosts can sleep. I think Andy mentioned something about that yesterday, actually. That they have to 'recharge' or whatever it is they do so that they can remain visible.

After he fell asleep and I finished my assignments, I noticed that the photo of him and Ashley was on the corner of my desk, right where he'd left it, along with his box of belongings.

I looked back at him to be sure he was still asleep, then reached carefully for the box and lifted the squeaky lid. I wasn't sure what I expected to find in there, but for some reason I was nervous.

When the light from my lamp lit the box up, I realized it was just simple things, not murdering devices.

There was another Polaroid photo of Andy with a girl I didn't recognize. I looked at it for a moment and noticed all the tattoos Andy actually had that I never noticed. I set that photo aside and pulled out a small, silver chain with a black crucifix charm dangling from it.

I rolled it around between my index finger and thumb. The charm was tiny and felt like a cold stone. I couldn't identify what material it was actually made from, so I settled on either metal or rock.

Reaching back into the box, there was a guitar pick with a scribble of a signature in Sharpie on it, a dried up flower that looked like a pale pink orchid, and a crushed up piece of paper.

I unfolded the paper, and after reading the first few lines, I realized it was song lyrics. I hummed a rhythm to it as I read the words on the paper, but stopped when I heard movement behind me. I tossed everything back into the box and shut the lid, only to realize Andy had rolled over.

He was so realistic, I found myself forgetting he was actually dead. That he was just a spirit, lighter than air, resting on my bed, restoring his ghostly energy.

I turned away and picked back up the photo of him and Ashley, and decided to give it a special place. Standing up from my chair, I went over to my full length mirror, where other photos, cut outs of musicians I liked and stickers were plastered over half the glass, and I carefully stuck the Polaroid under the corner of the mirror frame, and took a step back to look at the two of them.

I looked over at the clock on my nightstand. The time was four twenty-three. I had a few hours to sleep before school, and I might as well.

I walked over to the bed. Too lazy to change back into my pyjamas, I grabbed one of Andy's sprawled arms and tossed it aside, forming an area on the edge of the bed wide enough to lie down on.

I curled up and reached for the lamp, and flipped it off. Total darkness filled the room and I closed my eyes, listening to Andy's breaths until I finally fell asleep.

~~~

Instead of waking to my alarm, I woke to my mom's presence in my room.

"Holy-" I leapt up, and realized it was only her.

Gripping my head, I sat there, waiting for her to tell me why she was there, but then I noticed her stealing my hamper. I glanced to my left, and Andy still slept there. I looked up at her in panic, and she looked over at me.

"Something wrong?" she inquired in confusion.

I shook my head. "No, no, I just had a bad dream. Nothing's wrong."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at me. "You've been acting kinda weird the last couple days. Are you feeling okay?"

"Fine. Fit as a fiddle."

"Period?"

"Mom!" I cried out in embarrassment. She chuckled and scooped up the hamper into her arms. "Just checking. Better get ready or you're going to be late."

She closed the door behind her, and Andy's answering chuckle forced a bright red blush of embarrassment into my cheeks. His shoulders shook with the silent laugh, and he rolled onto his back and sprawled his arms out.

"Your mom is hilarious."

I smacked him with a throw pillow and got up, heading to my closet, not in the mood to talk to him right then. I grabbed the first set of clothes my hands touched.

"I'm taking a shower. Probably won't see you again before I go. See you at school?"

"Sure. What else have I got to do? Listen to your mom all day?" he cracked, and I spun around to send a frosty glare his way.

"Andrew Dennis Biersack, you may be dead, but one day I will be, too. And I will find you, and I will kill you for a second time. I'd choose my words wisely, if I were you."

He actually looked kinda scared as I exited the room. I shut the door behind me, just in case, and headed towards the bathroom down the hall.

I started the water and dug through the bathroom drawers for my makeup, and set it out on the granite countertops.

After the shower, I dried my hair out and put on one of the few black shirts I had. It had the Black Parade marching skeleton logo on the front from the My Chemical Romance album.

I put on a lighter colored pair of jeans that had natural holes in the knees, and my green high top Chuck Taylors. I chose to leave my hair down today, and curled it a little bit before I tossed my old clothes into the hamper and put away my makeup. I hurried out to grab my backpack, jacket, and sprinted out to catch the bus before it pulled away from the curb in front of my house.

At school, Mark met me by the front doors and commented on my shirt. I laughed at our similar music interests, and asked him what other kinds he listened to while on the way to my first class.

"Well, my uncle felt like it was his personal duty to educate me on the great rock icons of the 80's and early 90's, so I listen to a lot of rock and punk music. Never really got into country or rap, though."

"Same." I laughed. "I listened to a lot of Beatles when I was younger, mostly because my dad loved the crap outta them. When I turned twelve, though, I finally started finding my own music tastes."

"Hey, have you ever heard of Mötley Crüe?" Mark suddenly asked me, and it brought back memories of the previous night.

"Yeah, um, I have a friend who loves them. Went to a concert for his eighteenth birthday," I added on.

"Seriously?! That's sick! They're my favorite band like... Ever. I'd die if I could go to a concert." He laughed. "You'll have to hook me up with this dude sometime. We could fanguy over Mötley."

"Fanguy?" I echoed him, breaking into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Okay, I've heard fangirl, but never fanguy. Well played. I learned something new today."

He grinned at me as we walked into history and took our seats. I looked up when someone walked in, expecting it to be another new student, but instead it was Andy. He walked in slow motion, wearing a long leather trench coat, trying to look dramatic. I laughed.

"What?" Mark asked from beside me. I looked over at him, then back at Andy, who winked at me then started laughing obnoxiously in his clown tone. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing again.

"Oh, nothing. I just thought of a joke Elizabeth told me yesterday."

"Oh yeah? What was it?"

I floundered. "Uh, I don't remember exactly how it went. You'll have to ask her."

I watched Andy pull a pair of aviator sunglasses from the pocket of his black leather trench coat and put them on dramatically, sweeping through the classroom with a slow gait to the empty seat beside me. He sat down and propped his ankles up on the desktop, turning his head, arms crossed, looking at me.

"Sup," he greeted with a jerkish nod, before swiping the sunglasses off the bridge of his nose like a sassy bitch. I felt the pressure building up in my stomach, the urge to bust out laughing. I didn't get away with a giggle the first time, I highly doubt that I'll get away with hysterical laughter.

I just shook my head and looked down at the cover of my history book to avoid the risk of being caught laughing at inanimate objects


	10. Rain.

After I was free of history, Andy walked faithfully by my side in his new treads, coming off slightly as a loyal dog.

"Where do you keep getting your clothes?" I whispered to him, since I couldn't talk to him as I pleased.

He half grinned and put his sunglasses back in his pocket. "The death gods have blessed me with them." He smirked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one up. I could clearly see the smoke and wondered if everyone else could.

He waved his hands in defence. "Anything 'ghostly' happening in the immediate vicinity around me, stays around me. Which means if I don't want any of these fuckers to see my damn smoke, then they can't."

He blew a gust of grey smoke out from between clenched teeth. "To answer your earlier question, these are just things I had from when I was alive, at my house. Like writing letters or picking up the photos last night, if real items enter my 'bubble' they instantly become invisible to everyone else, and become ghost items too, until I put them down. So specifically speaking, your eyeliner on my face, is now a ghost."

I gasped in surprise. "You're already wearing my damn makeup?" I hissed under my breath.

He laughed. "I ran out a while ago, and I don't want to be suspicious stealing from other people, so I'm stealing from you."

"Wow, thanks," I muttered in annoyance.

"You're welcome," he replied.

He sat on some jock's desk during biology, since Mark had taken the empty seat beside me.

I watched him in a fit of restrained laughter while he was sticking his tongue out in his face, walking in circles around him, and singing Boston's More Than a Feeling in a high pitched scream without being noticed.

"Hey Ash, I have more ghostly business to do. I'll be back before you get out of school!" he called, heading to the classroom door before the teacher entered. I nodded, realizing I had opened my mouth and was about to reply. I tended to get caught up believing Andy was just as real to everyone else as he was to me, and I was beginning to wish that he was.

~~~

I was grateful when school was out for the day. I wasn't sure how much more of this repetitive shit I could put up with, even if Andy had brightened my otherwise boring days considerably.

When I walked outside, the skies were rolling grey, still sunny, not quite raining yet. I saw Andy, walking and balancing on the bike bar, where a few twelve speeds were chained up.

"Ash!" He waved to me and jumped down from the bar, and jogged towards me. "What are you doing now?"

I thought about it for a moment, and had an idea. "Actually, I have something to show you now... It only works when it rains, so..."

"Yeah, of course. I'm down with that." He nodded coolly, up for anything.

I nodded, and placed my headphones in my ears to keep up normal appearance as I boarded the bus home. Andy sat beside me and shared one headphone, and scrolled through the songs on my phone, looking for bands he was familiar with.

When we got off in front of my house, I headed inside to greet my mom and tell her where I was going before ditching the textbooks from my backpack and replacing them with classic novels, bottled water and soda. I switched out of my nice denim school jacket into an old Blink-182 hoodie, and went outside to meet Andy, right where I'd left him on the curb.

"So... Where are we going?" he wondered in confusion when I started walking west along the sidewalk. I lived just on the outskirts of Pendant, so not far from the wide open forests and prairie areas.

"You'll see." I grinned, pulling my headphones out of their jack so I could share my music with him.

"I really love this song." I sighed as we walked up a hill and the sidewalk began to thin into a dirt trail along the road. "The singer, it's about his brother, Mikey Way. He was suicidal back in the early days of their band, and even after they broke up, things went sour between all the members, so it also talks about, essentially, having to live without his brother for the first time in his life," I said with a nonchalant shrug, listening to the song coming from my phone's speakers, the volume up so loud it started to sound static.

Andy's brow furrowed as he listened to me without interrupting.

"Does anyone have the guts to shut me up? Cause I believe, that every night, there's a chance we can walk away," I sang up to the sky. The blue and white clouds were losing dominance against the storm clouds building up behind us.

"Faces I don't know, I am tired of the freezing club, keep me breathing, oh, don't make the lights come back, can you take me home? We all need this, when we live alone."

I played out the small break solo on my personal air piano, and went into the next verse. For once, Andy wasn't grinning. He just looked thoughtful for a bit, the wind tossed his hair back, and the sun bleached it a dark brown color.

"What is that song even called?" He chuckled while I searched through my playlist for the next song I wanted to show him.

"It's called 'Brother', hence the long story I told you." I smiled, and turned on a Panic! At the Disco song, and turned off my phone to save battery.

He nodded and listened to my next song of choice. I noticed he was being pretty quiet, or just observant, I couldn't tell.

"What other kinds of music do you like?" I asked him, deciding not to hoard the DJ position. He shrugged.

"Different kinds," he replied, seeming kind of distant.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah... I'm just thinking... About tomorrow."

He pushed his black half-mohawk back off his forehead in frustration. "I don't know what's going to happen after they put my body in the ground... Will I still be able to stay here? Or will I finally go to heaven or hell?"

I thought about that for a while. I was worried, too. I had only really known Andy for twenty-four hours, but it felt like a life time. I'd learned a lot about him, and his sudden absence would feel strange.

"Well, do you want an afterlife, first of all?"

He didn't answer at first. He looked down at the ground in thought. "I thought I did," he finally admitted. "But now I've realized that I just want more time on earth."

"More time? How?"

"Dead or alive. Preferably alive, but at this point, I'll take what I can get. From what I've seen, heaven and hell are just checkpoints, there's nothing special about them. They're worse than life, actually, because no one you know is there. No one you cared about... And all this time, this week, I've been thinking, maybe I could reconnect with Ashley somewhere... But then I remember what death was like the first time, and I'm questioning if it's even possible for me to find him."

"I believe in Christ," I began with a sigh, "but I've never had the experiences you've had, so I can't dip my hand in as to whether or not he is real, or if heaven and hell are as extravagant as they make it out to be... I don't have any true advice, but as a friend, try to do what's best for you. If you want to stay on earth, try to make it happen. If it doesn't work, and you end up crossing over anyways, at least you tried, right?"

"Would you want me to stay?" he asked. He was being sincere, and non-joking.

"Of course," I replied without really thinking about it. "I consider you a close friend already."

He nodded to himself. "I have a lot to think about, I guess."

"Yes, you do. But not right now, look!" I pointed ahead, at the top of a hill to our left. An old, hollowed out homestead, nearly reclaimed by nature. "I like to come here sometimes when it rains. It just looks beautiful."

I tugged on his hand, and he followed me up the hill, to the small home at the top. It had long since burned out and retired to nature, but a few walls still stood, and there was a tin roof.

"That's cool," he said as we approached it, and took in the structure covered in vines and climbing flowers.

"I like to sit in here." I showed him through the side wall of the house, into what used to be a family room. Half the walls were just structure beams now, but some old furniture remained. I looked out the collapsed wall at the countryside as the rain began to come down.

"I don't have to be anything else here..." I murmured to myself, watching the rain drip off the leaves hanging from the wooden beams above me. "Anyone or anything."

"Dead or alive," he added on with a sigh.

I nodded, and looked out at the open field down the hill as it became drenched with another round of spring rain.

"Here, check this out..." I said after a few silent moments of watching the rain. I grabbed my backpack off the buckled wood floors, where patches of grass were coming up between the boards. I pulled a wooden crate over and sat down on it, leaning back against the wall, digging through my backpack for my journal.

Andy leaned forward on his own crate, clasping his hands together patiently, waiting for me to pull out the item I was looking for.

"I, uh, don't know if I ever told you, but I… I write songs," I said, brushing a strand of emerald green hair back and tucking it behind my ear.

"Really? What kind?"

I shrugged, too embarrassed to look at him, so I looked down at the leather cover of my journal. "Different kinds. They change according to how I feel."

"Sing me some," he encouraged.

"No, no, no... I'm not singing." I shook my head. "But I'll read them to you, if you want."

He nodded and waited. I looked up finally at his insanely blue eyes to be sure he was even interested, and then back down at the withered paper in front of me.

"Just a little forewarning, this one is dark..."

He nodded again, moving his clasped hands up to rest his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands while he waited for me to begin.

"I was born of dark and light,  
The Lord gave me my life,  
Trusted I could keep it safe,  
I'm sorry, but I've been replaced.

I failed many times,  
Succeeded less  
Life gets hard,  
And it's time to give it a rest.

It gets harder to love yourself,  
When you don't love who you are.  
Maybe tears run down your face,  
And you fear you've been replaced,  
You've been replaced."

I stopped reading then and sighed, stretching out my arms awkwardly. "I haven't really decided on a chorus yet, but I think I'm getting there. Just finding something powerful enough to say is the hard part."

"I thought it was good," Andy said, leaning back. "Could use a tune to go with it, though." He grinned. "What else do you have?"

"Do you really want to hear another one?" I wondered skeptically.

"Yeah, but sing it this time." He crossed his arms and waited. I looked at him and sighed, flipping through the many pages to find the next one, and the one I felt most comfortable with sharing to an audience.

Taking a deep, hesitant, and slightly reluctant breath, I sighed and began again, singing the words this time.

"I know of a place, hidden away  
Darkness cannot join,  
In the sun we can stay. We can talk, and we can smile,  
You won't disappear,  
And we'll walk for a while.  
The darkness that is out there, cannot find us here.  
We are safe, here, on the other side.

Do not grieve for I am gone.  
I have found my place with the Lord,  
He will keep me safe,  
And life was just a game. A test for the final judgment.  
Do not cry that I am gone,  
Smile because I am still here.  
I've never left, and never will.  
I'm always here.  
In the End."

"Can I ask a favor?" Andy asked afterwards, leaning forward again, looking down at his hands while he thought.

"What's that?"

"Do you think... That maybe, you could sing that at the funeral tomorrow? I'd really appreciate it."

"Uh, I don't know..." I wrung my hands together uncomfortably. "I almost couldn't sing it for you just now..."

"But," he raised a hand, "you sung ‘Brother’ like a lunatic on the way up here. What's the difference between singing that, and singing this?"

"The difference is that I wrote this. Part of my heart is somewhere in the lyrics. It's just very personal to me..."

He gave me puppy eyes, and I glared at him. "Don't you do that..." I grumbled, and he began to grin.

"Come on, please? I'm not the only one who would appreciate it. I think my mom would find comfort in it, actually. But if you feel uncomfortable about singing it in front of a big crowd, just imagine you're singing with me. Hell, I'll go up there and sing it with you if you want.

"Please?" he asked again when I didn't answer.

I sighed. "That's it? You just want me to sing? According to your whole family, my family, and both of our friend groups, neither of us even met, and I'm only supposed to be going because your aunt and uncle are my neighbors."

"Just say that you want to. They'll understand."

I looked at his eyes again, they were such a pure, crystal shade of blue it almost looked unnatural. "Fine," I agreed at last, reluctantly. "I'll do it. Partially because you asked me, and partially because I consider you a close friend."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Thank you," he murmured as he leaned forward and embraced me in a hug. It was the weirdest hug ever, though. Hugs are supposed to be warm. He was like hugging an ice sculpture. I accepted it nevertheless, and returned the gesture.

"You're welcome." I smiled into his shoulder. Glad that I could at least make tomorrow that much less dreadful for him to go through.

"All right, enough of the heavy. Thirsty?"

"Well, it's not something I feel anymore, but sure."

I tossed him a Pepsi and grabbed a bottle of water from my backpack, and pulled out my stack of classic books and set them on the water damaged end table.

"It's really cool out here, actually," Andy commented after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah, it is... My dad actually used to take me back here on his days off. But since he signed up with a bigger cooperation, he doesn't have so much time off anymore, so I just made it my own thing to come here. I usually come out when it's raining though, hence today. I just love how the countryside looks in a storm. You can't see that from my house."

I sighed and thought for a while. "I almost had a younger brother or sister once."

"Huh?"

"It was a couple years back. My mom was pregnant, everything was fine until one day... Everything just... Wasn't. She lost it before the fourth month. Put her into a depressed state. That's why she fusses over me so much, to make up for the child she never had." I shrugged a little.

"Being an only child also generates negative things, such as not being allowed to do certain things, like go to concerts and all that crap. It's the number one thing on my bucket list to go to a concert and my parents won't let me." I laughed.

"Hey, I can make myself visible every now and again. I could help you get to the venue. I couldn't physically be there for the whole thing, but I could get you through gates. Plus, I can drive." He winked, seeming overjoyed with the idea of breaking my parents’ firm rules again.

"You just can't wait to get me grounded, can you?" I asked sarcastically, laughing.

"Yep." He laughed, nodding, pulling his infamous sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on for effect.

I hugged my knees and looked out at the storm. "Looks like the rain is stopping... We should probably head back soon."

He nodded. "Did I ever tell you I love the rain?" he asked off topic.

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "I love the rain. It was raining on that day... Last Sunday. Church had just gotten out, and I stood in front of the chapel, arms out, getting drenched."

He laughed. "Seriously? Are you sure I'm the fucked up one between us?"

"Shut up." I snickered, shoving his shoulder. "I dunno about you, but I'm heading back."

I stood up and stretched, and packed my things back up, and looked around to make sure I'd gotten everything when a thought crossed my mind. In theory, I was actually alone right now, talking to no one. I wonder if this is what 'insane' people go through? Maybe they're perfectly sane, having a normal conversation with a spirit, and people think they need to be tossed in an asylum.

We stepped out from under the slanted tin roof on what used to be the front porch. I watched a rainbow seep through the ash grey clouds, and watched it until it faded, then I began to cross the field, the tall, wet grass staining the legs of my jeans with water droplets. I'd be happy to get home and get some dry socks.

Andy sang a Kiss song I'd never heard before on the way back, this time in his normal voice, instead of amping it up with the high pitched squeal he normally used as his singing voice.

As I walked through the front door, my dad was home, heading for the kitchen.

"Hey Ash! How was school."

"Good, I guess. Kinda boring." I shrugged, dropping my backpack into a chair near the door.

I looked back at Andy. "You're welcome to anything, unless you have some ghost business to take care of?"

"Actually, yes. I'll be back later." He waved as he disappeared through the front door again.

"All right..." I sighed, clapping my hands against my legs. "Time to act like I spent all day with humans."


	11. Home.

Mom and Dad were talking about the trip we'd have to make to California next week to visit my great Grandma, who was currently ill in her beach house by the bay. I had never been there personally, because normally Gram travels to Utah to see us.

I worked on homework, listening to them talk, trying to remain on top of my work no matter what was being thrown my way right now.

A knock at the front door distracted me.

"Ash, could you grab that?" my dad asked me, washing his hands in the sink as he did so. I nodded and hopped up, heading to the front door.

"Oh, hey... Mr. Turner?"

"Hello, Ash? Is your father home?"

"Oh, yeah, just a minute. Come on in." I stepped aside and held the door open as he walked past me into the foyer.

I'd never really interacted with the Turners much. And especially now, considering the circumstances. I wasn't sure why he was here now.

"Andrew!" my dad greeted cheerfully as he walked in, his Italian accent showing a little bit.

Andrew? Was Andy named after his uncle? I stepped off into a side hallway and listened to their conversation for a bit.

"As you know, my nephew's funeral is tomorrow at noon," Andrew Turner told my father with a saddened sigh. "I've been checking in with all of those attending with a role to be sure things are ready."

"Of course," my dad answered with a sombre tone. "Just know that our family is here for you if you need it."

"Actually, that was something I was going to ask..."

"What's that?"

"Last year at the Pendant High talent show, your daughter sang and played piano... Don't suppose there's a chance she could play a quick tune tomorrow? She could play anything she's comfortable with," Mr. Turner bargained.

I was surprised by his offer, but little did he know Andy had already asked me personally. At least now, I didn't have to wiggle my way into the schedule of things.

"Well, hang on and let me ask her. Ash! Can you come here for a moment?"

I pretended to be in the other room, and took my time shuffling out from the hallway. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Mr. Turner has a question to ask you."

I stepped further into the foyer and waited patiently for him to spring the question I already knew.

"Yes?"

"Now, last year," he licked his lips nervously, "me and my wife attended the high school talent show, and you preformed a song on piano. You're free to say no, but would you consider playing a song at the funeral tomorrow?"

"Sure," I agreed. I had nothing to think out, because I'd already promised Andy less than an hour ago. "Any particular songs you'd like?" I offered. I knew which ones Andy wanted, but I wanted to offer closure for his whole family as well.

"Well, Andy always really liked Mötley Crüe and Kiss, those kinds of bands... In fact, he was in a band back in high school, named Black Veil Brides. They didn't go too far, but they did give me one of their EP's if you're feeling adventurous," he added on with a grin and a chuckle.

I could learn a song pretty quick, but learning it without Andy knowing would be the hard part...

"Actually... Sure, I can try." I smiled.

"Really? Great! I'll drop the CD by on the way back from the Petersons’, then. Thank you very much, Ash. You are doing this family a great favor." He shook my hand before heading back out to his car.

My dad turned to smile at me with pride. "Thank you, Ash." I nodded and smiled back, digging my hands into my pockets.

"It was the least I could do."

He pulled me into a hug, and rested his chin on my head. "I never took the time to ask you how you were feeling about this whole thing... I mean, you were there."

I shrugged a little. "I feel like I'm in shock... Like it didn't happen. It's so strange..."

"I know..." He sighed, and continued to hug me. It was nice. I never really had moments like this with my dad, but on that note, it also made it slightly awkward, because neither of us were very openly emotional people.

"Um, hun..." my mom called from the kitchen then. "I think your fish is burning."

"Sh-Shoot!" Dad censor-cursed and broke off the hug to go save his salmon.

I laughed and went to the kitchen to continue working on my homework, but it stunk so badly of burning fish, that I scooped up my textbooks and went to the patio in the backyard to work. I set them out on the concrete slab, and pulled one of the cushions off the lawn chairs and laid it down flat and sat upon it while I wrote out a history statement.

It hit me then that in the midst of everything that had happened that week, I still hadn't wrote my story for my writing class. I still had those God-awful drafts saved to my phone, but none of them really represented what I was. But with the time running out, I might just end up having to use one of those ideas.

Math was an unfortunate, unavoidable topic. I didn't like it in the least, but I understood its importance. However, if I had the chance, I would throw away my whole packet right now.

I continued my work, wondering, and secretly waiting for Andy to try and sneak up on me, but as the sky started to turn violet, and I had long since finished my assignments, I got up and went inside. Andy wasn't back yet. I took my homework up to my room, half expecting him to be there, but he wasn't. The papers didn't flutter like they did when he was there. It was like he was actually dead now.

It felt weird, having had him around all week, and he was suddenly gone. I knew he was off handling ghostly business, but his absence felt strange, like standing in a room with no furniture or knick knacks.

Mr. Turner dropped off the CD on his way home, just before dinner. He handed me the orange tinted, coverless jewel case, with a slip of paper inside that simply said Black Veil Brides on it. He thanked me again gratefully and got into his car to head home.

And since Dad had burned the fish, they salvaged what they could and made soup instead. Dad wore a guilty grin as he served bowls, and I chuckled.

After dinner, I carried the CD up to my room, almost feeling hesitant to listen to it, worried Andy might appear and he might get mad, even though he'd never been angry with me. I just didn't want to risk it. But like most times, curiosity won out, and I hesitantly clicked the plain, white, re-writable disk into my CD player, and put in my headphones. Sitting at my desk, I worked aimlessly on new lyrics, and bits and pieces of my essay.

There was a piece of paper that fell out of the case from behind where the disk had been. I picked it up off the floor, realizing it was a track listing.

The Outcasts (Call to Arms)  
We Stitch These Wounds  
Beautiful Remains  
Children Surrender  
Perfect Weapon  
Knives and Pens  
The Mortician's Daughter  
All Your Hate  
Heaven's Calling  
Never Give In  
Sweet Blasphemy  
Carolyn

"Hmm..."

I hit play, and listened through the first few tracks, and right off, I knew it was Andy singing, because his vocals had a deep undertone. I smiled and listened, loving every song individually. And then... There was this one song that came on, that shocked me. It came off differently than the other pieces on the album. It opened in acoustic with a touch of piano.  
"I'll open my lungs, dear.  
I sing this song at funerals,  
No rush.

And these lyrics heard a thousand times,  
Just plush.

A baby boy you've held so tightly,  
This pain visits almost nightly.  
Missing hotel beds,  
I feel your touch.

I will wait, dear.  
A patience of eternity,  
My crush.

A universe so still,  
No rust  
No dust will ever grow on this frame  
A million years and I will say your name  
I love you more than I could ever scream.

I booked our flight those years ago,  
I said I loved you as I left you,  
Regrets still haunt my hollow head,  
But I promise you that I will see you again.  
Again.

I sit here and smile, dear  
I smile because I think of you,  
And I blush."

I smiled softly, listening to the piano weaving through the acoustic guitar, and violin backing. Andy's voice forming the words, and the soft, almost romantic yet sad message. From what I gathered, it was about leaving someone you love in search of something else. It reminded me of when Andy mentioned moving to California; he left his family and friends behind here.

I smiled and grabbed the CD from the CD player and took it downstairs, to the music room in the back of the house. I popped it into the stereo and shut the door, and went to the piano. A sleek, black grand piano, among other instruments I'd never learned to play.

I played around with the keys for a bit, with the track titled The Mortician's Daughter playing in the background on repeat while I struggled a bit to work out the piano parts by ear. I kept a notebook nearby while I worked, writing down and adjusting my list of notes and beats as I went.

I worked in there for quite a while before my dad stepped into the room.

"I thought I heard you in here... Working on a song?" He sat on the piano bench beside me and watching me continue to pound the smooth loop of music on the keys, in search of the next note.

"Yeah..." I sighed, deciding to take a quick break. "There was this really pretty song called The Mortician's Daughter on the CD. I wanted to play it tomorrow."

"Uh..." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "It is appropriate, right? The whole crowd won't end up in tears?"

I laughed. "The title doesn't really have much to do with the song itself. It's more of a closure piece, I think."

He nodded, and listened to it playing in the background on the stereo. "This is the song?"

I nodded.

He listened in silence for a while longer, until it ended with the word 'Home'.

"I think that'd be perfect, actually. Might get some misty-eyed people, but it'll be beautiful. Thank you for doing this, sweetie." He put his arm around my shoulders and gave them a squeeze. I smiled down at the ivory keys, and hoped that Andy would be happy, too.


	12. Sorrow.

It was late, and of course, raining, when Andy finally came back. By that time, I had already finished learning the piano instrumental, and now I sat in my room trying to memorize the lyrics and pattern.

When he climbed in through the window, he wasn't smiling like he normally does. He was upset.

"What's wrong?" I asked urgently, setting aside my notebook and standing up. He slammed the glass behind him and it rattled in the frame. He paced away from me, combing his fingers through his black mohawk anxiously.

"Andy!" I hissed, trying to keep my voice down in case my parents were still awake. "What happened?"

"I think I know now..." He sighed in frustration, turning to face me, his lips pressed thin, his body rigid. There was tears of fear, frustration and pain in his eyes. He looked at me, but did not speak.

"Know what? Andy, what's going on?" I guided him to the bed and sat him down, but he refused to speak. Instead, he turned his head into my shoulder and started bawling. I was confused as to what had set him off, given right now there was a number of things that could've done it.

He shook his head sadly. I wrapped my arms around his slender torso and hugged him to me, still cold as ice, but I was trying. I pressed my cheek against his forehead, and felt his tears staining the shoulder of my night shirt. I tried to remember what things my mom did to calm me down when I was upset, so I tried to channel that into my protective friendship.

"It's okay..." I sighed softly, rubbing his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. He sniffled, and continued to cry, all worked up over something. I thought through what things we'd talked about for clues, and most of it, understandably, revolved around him ending up in the ground in the morning. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I can try to understand."

He shook his head a little, and his long, crucifix earrings rattled and clanked together with the movement. "You don't want to be a part of this... Look what I've done... I've drug you into this. Now you have to suffer with everyone else."

"I'm not suffering," I defended. "You have to tell me what's wrong. I can't help you until you do."

His lip quivered, and he shed more angry, scared tears before speaking again between the torn sobs. "I- I think I know how it works now... I- I have to be with my body at the time of death tomorrow... Then I have a chance. I have a chance, Ash... A chance to find Ashley on the other side."

I took in an involuntary deep breath as I realized what he meant...

"You're planning on going through with it?" I asked him softly. It was entirely his decision, and I would try my best to support whatever he chose.

He nodded a little. "I made a promise to him... And I broke it. I have to find him and make it right."

"Ashley would want to see you again," I agreed quietly. "I didn't know him, but I also think he'd like you to do what's best for you. He'd want you to be happy, right?" I looked down at his face, which was currently hidden behind a choppy layer of black hair. Another drop soaked up in the fabric of my shoulder.

"I'd hope so..." he whispered, his hands shaking. "That's why there's so many ghosts, haunted houses, Ash... Those ghosts missed their deadlines, and they couldn't cross over then... They ran out of time to make a decision, so the afterlife made one for them."

He sounded so certain of his theory, and heavily conflicted, as well.

"I want to see my family. I want to watch my cousins grow up, and I want to see my family grow old together, and celebrate things. I want to see all the new additions, and the loss. I want to be here. My place is here, Ash."

"But you also deserve an afterlife, Andy..." I sighed, trying to help him reason with himself by seeing the pros and cons of both decisions.

"I know... I don't know what to do..." he whispered in fear, his whole body shaking. "I have to make a decision by 3:50 tomorrow afternoon. Before then, actually... I went to the funeral home, and got one of these."

He sat up a little, and pulled a pamphlet out of his studded sleeveless denim jacket, and handed it to me. I took it carefully, and read through it, realizing it was the schedule for the funeral. At three, they were to have him in the ground. He didn't have that extra fifty minutes.

"I'm trying to make the right decision here... If I stay, that's for me. Because my family can't see me, anyways. If I cross over, that's more for Ashley than myself."

I took another deep breath, and waited for him to speak again. He sighed, and dropped the pamphlet onto the bedspread and dropped his forehead against my shoulder again. He didn't speak again. He hid in his head with his thoughts, struggling to decide what tomorrow would bring, and if... He chose to go to the other side. It was a big decision to make for a number of reasons, and I found myself getting choked up over it, trying to imagine either a world without Andy at all, or not knowing if he was okay on the other side, if he'd found Ashley yet or not. With his decision came finalism. He'd be gone for good, with nothing but a headstone to remind everyone he ever even existed.

A lone tear ran involuntarily down my cheek, and I wiped it away, looking over at Andy. His face was propped up slightly, and his wide, blue eyes looked up at me, and something just broke behind his eyes, but he didn't say anything. He didn't say anything about that tear, or the way my face contorted in sorrow, and I turned to pull him into a tight hug. I was sorry for him, and to be honest, sorry for myself. I'd known him a week and felt like he knew me better than anyone. His sudden absence would come as a shock, no doubt. A case of shock I'd have to play off as fine to my parents.

I hugged him tightly, and he hugged back, and we sat there, crying with each other. I took that moment to remember every detail about him, should I ever forget him. I couldn't...

"It's not tomorrow yet," I whispered. "We still have time. Are you up for sneaking out?"

He smiled at me in sadness. "After all the trouble I've caused, you still want to sneak out with me?"

I smiled back. "Yeah, 'cause you're like my best friend, 'n stuff," I said with a shrug, and he grinned, looking down at his hands.

"Okay, sure, where to?"

"Hang on..." I hopped up and checked out in the hall. The lights were still on downstairs. I listened for a minute, and recognized the blood curdling scream to be from the Frankenstein movie. "We've got time. Chances are, they're watching a marathon," I told Andy, but my voice was all stuffed up and I sounded sick. I tried to laugh through the snot and tears, but I felt ridiculous.

"Never mind..." I grumbled. "Hang on, let me grab my jeans and we can set out." On our last adventure, I thought, but I did not tell him that. It was pretty clear which way the wind was blowing.

I pulled up my blue jeans over the top of my night shorts, and left on the ghost tear stained white blouse I had on, and grabbed my Walking Dead hoodie from the closet.

"How many of those damn things do you have?" Andy joked as he wiped his eyes, and reapplied my makeup to his face, around his eyes, and touching up on the black war streak across his left cheek.

"Enough to own one for every one of the bands I like, TV shows, movies and games. Got a problem, smart ass?" I cracked, and he grinned.

"No, miss emo bitch."

I smirked and headed to the window, looking out the glass. It was almost eleven, and we had the whole night to explore. I took additional time to stuff a body shaped figure under my covers in case my mom or dad checked in during the night. I planned to be out for a few hours at the most.

"Ready?" I asked him as he sealed the bottle of liquid eye liner and set it precisely straight on my makeup desk. "Yep. Let's go."

He strode towards the window with nothing but his sleeveless denim.

"Don't you get cold?" I asked curiously. I had wondered since I met him how he could dress for such low temperatures.

He shrugged. "No, and if I have, I haven't noticed."

"Okay, then..."

I climbed out first, and waited for him to climb through before I gently shut the glass again. We waddled to the edge of the roof and dropped down like we had the night before, landing with a thud, and of course, Andy beat me down, by just jumping off the roof.

"I sure hope you were using your invisibility cloak." I sighed as we walked. "Because if my neighbors saw some crazy kid jumping off my roof, not only would they shit themselves, but they'd probably call the police, FBI, the Coast Guard, Military Forces and a ghost hunter group to investigate. If you haven't noticed, my neighbors are very paranoid."

I pointed to each house, every window on the first floor had its shutters closed and locked up tight.

"Weird," Andy commented.

I noticed that he still wasn't quite himself; he was still acting off. I thought about asking if he was okay again, but was worried about setting him off. Sometimes people just want to think to themselves, and get pissed when people are constantly poking and prodding.

His eyes were slightly red from crying, and the way he walked was almost dragging, even though he had infinite energy.

"Where are we going?" he asked after a while, and I shrugged at first. I wanted to take him somewhere where we could speak openly, but I also believed that he deserved one more city night.

"This way," I responded with a smile, and I kept following the sidewalk until slowly, business places began to build up around us until I could see the bright lights from the inner city.

"We're fucking around tonight. Ready to get into trouble?"

"Uh..." He paused in confusion. "Should I say yes?"

"Hell yes," I responded, following the side of the road. "You should get more excited." I punched his arm playfully. "We're doing a few of your favorite things. Sneaking out, getting into trouble, and we'll even sing Mötley Crüe, if you want to." I nudged him, and he smiled a little, but he was lost in thought.

"Don't make me sing alone..." I said with a disapproving tone. "Ugh, fine... He's the one they call Dr. Feelgood," I sang with enthusiasm, still facing my own agony from our conversation, and trying to hide it. He smiled a little more, but stubbornly refused to join in.

I sighed and stopped walking. "I'm just trying to make you smile again." I buried my hands in my pockets and walked slower, looking down at my Converse.

"I know," he responded, sounding guilty. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"Don't be, I get it, you're scared... I'm scared, too. You're allowed to feel however you want, that's what I've always figured." I shrugged a little, taking a moment to kick a pebble across the pavement, still damp from the rain.

"Still..." he insisted, the corner of his mouth pulling down as though he was going to say something but decided against it. "Do you mind if I show you something?" he asked quietly, sounding hesitant.

"Sure? What is it?"

"Hey, you didn't tell me we were coming to the city until we got here," he defended. "You don't have to, because it's kinda weird... I just thought, you should probably be prepared."

"Prepared?" I echoed in confusion.

"C'mon, I'll show you." He jerked his head in the direction of where we were going, and I let him take lead, following him silently through the dark allies, trying to avoid the constant thought that I was indeed alone out here.

"Just tell me if you're getting weirded out or whatever, and we can leave," he said after about fifteen minutes of walking. I knew he could probably just do his ghostly teleport to wherever he wanted to go, but he was taking the time to walk me there.

"Why would I get w..."

I looked ahead of us, where under a streetlight, was a dark, wooden sign with white letters.

Jefferson Funeral Home.

"Uh..." I paused for a moment, slowly realizing why we were there, of all places.

"Do you want to go home?" Andy asked urgently, seeming just as nervous about going in, or even approaching it, as I was.

I shook my head. "No... No. I'm okay, I just wasn't expecting here, of all places..." I took a deep breath to calm myself down, and picked up my pace. "Why are we here, exactly? If you don't mind me asking."

He stopped dead in the middle of the street and took a deep breath and turned around to face me.

"I've told you most everything about me, except how I died."

I looked up at him in confusion. "I know how you died-"

"I know. But there's details you don't know, and I just want to lay all my cards on the table right now."

I felt a shiver run down my spine, but I didn't ask any more questions. I just followed him, and watched him open the front door of the funeral home freely, and step inside.

"Wasn't it locked?" I hissed, jogging after him.

"No doors are closed for the dead," he replied solemnly.

"Oh..." I sighed, unsure what else to say. "Okay."

The first room of the funeral home was dark, but friendly enough. A comfortable, family-friendly waiting room was situated around a dark, home run lobby.

"This way..." Andy led the way into the back rooms, to the room with the freezers full of dead bodies.

"Uh..." My words got hitched in my throat as I looked into the long freezer, illuminated by flickering fluorescents. There were closed drawers, like that of a morgue. They had secure locks on them, with name cards slid into a slide on the door, that in careful hand writing told who it was within.

Carl Shrapner, Sherri Wood, Camel Carter, Emily Jones, Calli Housten and Andy Biersack.

We looked at each other in a wave of uncertainty, and he reached for the lock.

"Wait!"

He stopped and looked at me. "Yeah?"

"Do we really have to look at it?" I winced.

"It?" he echoed with sarcasm, an amused grin appearing on his face.

"Sorry... Just, do we?"

"Yep," he responded, and proceeded to unlock the chamber while I braced myself for it.

The door swung open, and I looked at Andy in shock, but he was not. Actually, he wore a grin. I looked into the empty chamber, void of any body, void of any Andy.

"Where is it?"

He threw his head back in laughter. "It's not here, it's in the viewing room. The mortician is still here, adding finishing touches to it.

"Then why are we here?!" I demanded, instantly lowering my voice.

"Because I had a theory to test. Come with me."

I followed him reluctantly, muttering under my breath. We walked into what I could only guess was the viewing room. A long aisle, surrounded by rows of pews led up to the small platform stage where a sleek, black casket sat, wide open, a puffy bouquet of flowers sticking out. I followed him up to the front and he stopped, not hesitantly, just to listen.

"Okay, come here." He turned around and reached for me. I jumped back instinctively, but he secured me in his arms and pulled me towards him. "Stay as close as possible to me..."

"What are you doing?!" I demanded in shock. The mortician could walk in at any moment.

"Chill, I did this earlier with some chick on the street," he replied, rolling his eyes, proceeding to secure me to his chest without much struggle. "Just stay close, stay quiet, and stay still... Still as a corpse," he whispered, and the door opposite to us opened, and the mortician walked in.


	13. Past.

"Easy..." Andy whispered in my ear. My eyes were wide, and my pulse was thudding too loudly for me to even really hear him. The mortician seemed to be distracted, as well. He carried a tray of utensils, and a couple of different pads of touch up makeup. He looked directly at the coffin, and approached us, standing right next to it, and he didn't even breathe in our direction.

He continued to hum some classical song while he worked over Andy's body, getting it ready for tomorrow. I glanced over at him, and sighed. He looked nothing like Andy.

They put him in a black suit and a white button down shirt that had a snug collar to hide the tattoos on his neck. The mortician did not come back to color eyeliner around his eyes or unbutton the first seven buttons of his shirt for a more Andy look. He came to dab more of the already excessive blush of the wrong shade onto his cheeks, contouring them at the wrong angle, so he looked like his cheeks were blocks.

With a nod, the mortician left the room. He looked like he was half blind, actually...

"Why are we here?" I hissed when he'd left. Andy released me, and with a wicked grin, he pulled out a bottle of liquid eyeliner from his pocket. "Coloring," he answered.

"What?! No, you can't! Do you not think he will notice?!" I shouted at him under my breath.

"He won't," Andy responded confidently. "He's done working for tonight. Someone will be here in fifteen minutes to move my body to the morgue again. And we'll go ahead and shut the lid, no one will look in on old Andy until tomorrow."

He went without hesitation to the edge of the coffin, leaning over himself. He sighed in almost relish as he whipped out the wand, and began to color curvature lines around his own eyes with a great skill level.

"You got a towel or something?" he asked a couple minutes later without looking up.

"Will this work?" I asked, pulling a tissue from the box beside the coffin.

"We're going to need a lot more than one..." He sighed as he worked. "They did a number on me. Like, a whole inch of fucking concealer, what a damn mess. Hand me the whole box."

I tossed it to him, and he went to work wiping down his cheeks and forehead, recreating himself.

After he'd wiped off most of the concealer, he produced several other pieces of stolen makeup. Stolen from my room, might I add. He redid the cheek contouring, and got rid of the blush altogether. His forehead crushed up in concentration as he worked.

After the makeup was done, he stretched his hands before ruffling up his sleek haircut, how it'd been combed over strategically to make it look like he hadn't shaved half his head, and that he actually had a full head of hair.

"There." He grinned, stepping back to admire his work. "Oops, one more thing."

He reached up to his ears and pulled out the cross earrings, and bent over the body to apply them. Now the face of the body looked like him. Unfortunately, the suit didn't match the rest. Andy shrugged, happy enough that he got to modify himself to a recognizable state.

"All right, I think we're done here. Help me with this?" he asked as he pulled down the coffin lid. I placed my palms under the lid and helped him lower it silently.

"Okay, we should probably get the hell out now, before someone finds out we were here." He grinned, and ran for the exit. Of course, he didn't have to look around and keep an eye out for the mortician, unlike I, who had to sneak about like a ninja to the front door.

"What took you so long?" he asked, cocking his head. I extended my middle finger in his direction.

His laugh echoed behind me, and I briskly walked to put as much distance between myself and the funeral home as possible.

"Okay, explain to me how that whole invisibility thing worked?!" I demanded when we were alone.

He grinned. "This afternoon, I was walking on the street, behind this girl and her friend. Guess I got too close to them, because her friend turned around and started calling out for the other girl and the girl beside her was answering her, but they couldn't hear each other until I stepped away. My bubble of invisible weirdness can be expanded, and projected onto other people!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Do you know how many concerts I could smuggle you into?" He grabbed my shoulders and shook them, an excited grin on his face.

"How long can you do it for? Indefinitely?" I wondered curiously, thinking of all the trouble that was waiting to be done.

"Yeah, as long as you're within a foot around me, no one can see nor hear you."

"Comforting."

"Also, there's more perks to this than just remaining hidden. Check this out."

He grabbed my hand and towed me up the street away, until we approached a man standing under a streetlight, reading a newspaper on the bench. Andy slung me up onto his back and approached the man.

"As far as anyone's concerned, as long as you're within my bubble, you're a ghost, too. You can do anything I can, stay underwater indefinitely, jump from roofs, scream in people's faces, all of it. Unfortunately, we have to be incredibly close for any of that to work, so it is kinda useless, but I'm sure we'll find some pranks to play."

And that's all he cared about right now: pranking people with his glorious new discovery.

"Boo!" Andy shouted at the man, leaping up onto the bench beside him. I clung tightly to him, in fear that I'd slide off onto the ground, and the man would have a heart attack because a teenage girl just fell out of the sky.

"Okay, now check this out..."

He plucked the newspaper out of the man's hands, and I knew if Andy were entirely invisible, the newspaper would have popped out of existence, invisible within the bubble, as well.

The man looked around, startled, and looked for his newspaper. High and low, under the bench, on the ground, but it was obvious, he had no explanation for the sudden disappearance of his paper.

Andy laughed, and jumped from the bench into the street, and jogged up to a blind corner where I slid off his back and joined him in laughter.

"Did you see his face?!" I snorted, laughing too hard to form a normal sentence.

He nodded, mute from silent laughter, gripping his ribs, bending over, his laughter evolving into a mis-matched trail of snorting. "Oh, God, that was great." He sighed after the moment had passed. We looked at each other and began laughing again.

It was very unusual for me, still. To have a best friend who was a ghost. One who could join my world, make me laugh uncontrollably, and experience things I never, ever would have attempted had I been alone. Andy was great to have around, and I was glad now, that even as terrified as I'd been at the time, that I said his name.

Sure, I was good friends with Elizabeth, but she didn't know me well, she didn't know everything about me, just the basic things. She smiled at my jokes, even if they weren't funny, because she wouldn't just tell me they were awful. Andy, on the other hand, if he didn't like something you did, he just outright called you an emo bitch.

"All right, how much time do we have left?" He laughed almost drunkenly, and turned back onto the sidewalk and began walking.

"Umm... Another half hour, then I probably need to get back. Why?"

"One more thing." He grinned, holding up a single finger, half concealed in a pair of leather fingerless gloves.

I didn't question it this time, and followed him. We ended up on Main Street after a while, and we approached a bar. Andy pulled me into his bubble and we stood in the doorway, listening.

"Music?" I commented.

"Your first concert," he corrected. "These guys are great. They'll be at the funeral tomorrow."

He pushed through the door, which to anyone looking our way, wouldn't see. I took a breath, and smelled the sour stench of alcohol, sweat and vomit. Great.

"Who are they?" I asked as we wove through the close crowds to the stage in the back of the room.

"My band," he responded with a great deal of pride in his voice as he looked up at the stage. "Not anymore, obviously. After Ashley's death, and me moving away, they formed a new band. That, that's CC, or Christian Coma." He pointed at the man on the drums. "That's Jake Pitts, and Jinxx."

I looked up in wonder at the men. There was a new vocalist and guitarist on stage, but they were still giving the show their all.

"Are they playing one of your songs?" I asked.

"Yes," he responded. "It's an old one we never released."

He didn't elaborate on what that meant, so instead of waiting for him to answer, I turned towards the stage and watched them, getting acquainted with their appearance, because I'd see them tomorrow on the most tragic day of our lives.

"They're amazing..." I sighed, wondering silently what they must've been like before. With Andy at helm, and Ashley on guitar, playing bars and backyard shows weekend to weekend.

Andy smiled over at me, and looked back up at the stage. There was something in his eyes, he was waiting for something. I waited, not asking just yet.

"Okay, our last song of the night," the man named Jinxx said into the mic. "We'd like to dedicate this song to our old friend, Andy Biersack. You may have heard of him, he passed away last week." A murmur among the crowd.

"Back in the day, though," Jinxx said with a reminiscent smile, "he went by the name Andy Sixx. Y'know, as in Nikki Sixx from Mötley Crüe? Yeah. Okay, this song is called Knives and Pens."

Alone at last, we can sit and fight  
And I've lost all faith in this blurring light  
But stay right here we can change our plight  
We're storming through this despite what's right  
One final fight, for this tonight  
Whoa, with knives and pens we made our plight  
Lay your heart down the end’s in sight  
Conscience begs for you to do what's right  
Everyday it's still the same dull knife  
Stab it through and justify your pride  
One final fight, for this tonight  
Whoa, with knives and pens we made our plight  
Whoa and I can't go on without your love  
You lost, you never held on  
We tried our best  
Turn out the light  
Turn out the light  
One final fight, for this tonight  
Whoa, with knives and pens we made our plight  
Whoa and I can't go on without your love  
You lost, you never held on  
We tried our best  
Turn out the light  
Turn out the light

They thanked the crowd, and suddenly, Andy shouted, "Thanks, brother!" up to the stage, and Jinxx, CC and Jake looked over the crowd in search of the source. Andy must've made himself visible for a moment.

"Come on, I'll take you home now." He pulled me close through the crowd so I wouldn't be noticed as a minor.

Out on the sidewalk, the sky was rolling above. Andy sighed. "I haven't seen them in so long. That was nice."

I nodded in agreement and walked with him in the general direction of home.

"Okay, so what I was saying earlier... About laying all my cards on the table? I want to do that now."

I waited for him to speak, preparing myself for the detailed description he was about to give.

"I just... Can't go to the grave, knowing no one really knew what happened to me in those final moments. That no light came, and I just faded from myself. One minute, I'm looking up at the cloudy sky, agony all over my body, EMT's swarming me, and then... I'm standing over them, confused, wondering what had happened... What a stupid accident." He shook his head.

"I'm originally from Ohio, if you didn't know. When me and my parents moved down here, my grandparents followed. My aunt and uncle already lived here, and so did a few of my cousins. Moving from Ohio to Utah was tough, for a number of reasons. One being, even though I was just a shitty fifteen-year-old, I had a girlfriend. Her name was Scout."

He reached into the side pocket of his 'Prophet' jacket, and pulled out a worn photo of him – in extreme emo mode, with the whole layered, comb over thing – and her, a girl with reddish brown hair and a big smile. "I had to leave her behind in Ohio. I wrote a song about her, with the weirdest title. Her dad was a mortician, so, I didn't know what worked better." He smiled faintly with a shrug.

I held the picture in my hands for a few more moments before handing it back to him, where he returned it to his side pocket with a sigh.

I smiled a little. He meant The Mortician's Daughter, the track I'd be performing tomorrow.

"I told her I'd be back when I turned eighteen. We had plans; we were young, dumb, and naïve... When I got out here... Things just worked. I started the band immediately, and Scout kinda slipped into the background for a while. We kept in contact every now and again, but it wasn't the same. I got to high school, and then she called me up, said she couldn't do the long distance thing anymore... She broke up with me over the phone. So of course, I was mad and upset. She was my first heartbreak. So I turned to music and dark clothes to mend me through the process. That was why the bullying started." He shook his head a little, as though he wanted to place blame on Scout, but couldn't.

"Things moved too fast, and before I knew it, I was in California, trying to find my way through the darkness, struggling with withdrawals. I finally found a place, started my college classes, and decided it was time to try again. I called Scout, but her parents answered and told me she'd gotten married the year before, at age nineteen, and already had a son. It shocked me, and made me reconsider my own choices a bit. A few years in California went by, and it was time to come home and visit family. I took the week off from work to come up here and see my parents. I didn't even make it to their house... I sat at that intersection, with our old EP playing on the CD player in my truck. I looked down for a second... One second, and was side-swiped by semi-truck. It rolled my truck over with enough force to throw me through the window. Somewhere in that process, my legs were run over, and I lied there in the pavement, a victim of hit and run, bleeding out until the ambulances showed up. By that time, I'd lost a lot of blood, and the truck was on fire, bound to blow up any moment. And in that moment, I saw my life play out before me.

“There was no music or sound. It was silent, accompanied by my pulse thudding in my ears, making everything sound distant and faint. I slipped back and forth between the real world and dreams. I saw my Grandpa for the last time, kissed Scout for the first time, and saw the moment I shattered three ribs while performing. All the awkward, joyful and sad moments of my life played out in front of me, and I was dazed, not reacting. I looked up and could see the sky. The EMT's were trying to ask me questions about my identity, but I was preoccupied with something beautiful.

“I saw the rain coming down on me, covering the accident in a slick, sweet smelling layer of moisture. It soaked me through while I lied there, and I think I smiled a little bit as it did. I died with a smile on my face, because no matter how God-awful things had been for me, I realized right then, that at least I had gotten the chance to breathe at all. And I was grateful. I wasn't mad that it was the end. I just kinda accepted it... It was weird as hell, to be looking at myself in a way other than a reflection in a mirror.

“It was the end, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do, and I look over as firefighters are showing up, and there's this girl standing there... Standing there, getting her white dress soaked, staring down at me with shock, and worry. She bit her nails nervously, and her dad tried to pull her back. I wondered why she didn't leave or cry. She just stared numbly. I thought for a moment she was familiar, but she had green hair and I couldn't tell."

I was pressing my lips together in a firm line to keep from smiling now.

"She looked like Scout, and for a moment, I thought she was, but I couldn't be sure. The police were telling people to get back, and her father made her leave. I was curious, if it was Scout, or someone like her. I followed you home, and found you sitting in front of your desk that evening, trying to write about the dead boy you'd seen in the road earlier.

“To be honest, it shocked me that I'd shocked you. Like I've said before, no one's ever really reacted to my existence, and it almost fascinated me. I did find out pretty quick, though, that you weren't Scout. But I still wanted to know what it was about you that kept you from being scared. But then you screamed at me, and passed out in front of me, and I was just more confused. To be honest, I didn't think you'd ever speak my name, not after that. I was making plans, already set on going to Hell, since I was probably destined for that anyways, and then you called out to me, in the middle of the woods.

“Oddly enough, you had a... Bearable personality," he joked, and I shoved his arm with a smile. "Weird, though. The way you spoke to me was always with a veil of curiosity. So many questions burning in your eyes that you'd never ask.

“I never made the final decision, though. And I'm still trying to decide if there's enough for me here on earth to avoid the otherworld entirely. Still haven't figured that out yet."


	14. Cold.

From the moment I opened my eyes the next morning, I felt the heavy weight of grief. My eyes were open and I was breathing, but I felt no motivation to do anything. I just wanted to stay in bed all day and put off going anywhere.

Andy slept in the pink recliner chair in the corner under the window. He had been listening to music on my phone and fell asleep. Now one headphone dangled, while the other stayed in place.

I lied there, staring up at the ceiling, before I finally dragged myself up and went to the closet to look for some suitable clothes. It was a project I had put off doing all day yesterday. I didn't want to scour my closet for the customary black clothing I didn't own. All the dresses I had were colorful and would make me stick out even more than I already would, showing up to the funeral of a kid I didn't know and a family I never talked to.

"You're up early," Andy grumbled as he woke up, stretching out of his uncomfortable position. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to find something black," I grumbled in reply, digging through all my clothes again, in search of the wretched color among my dresses.

"Want to borrow something?" he suggested. I looked over my shoulder at him, and he was grinning.

"Pass," I replied.

He materialized beside me and pointed at one. "What's wrong with that one?"

"I don't like that one..." I grumbled, trying to skip it, but he caught the fabric of the skirt and yanked it out to look at it. "What's wrong with it?" he demanded in amusement. He cupped his hand through the fabric, forming a mouth.

"Yeah! What's wrong with me, Asheen?!" it demanded through Andy's forced high-pitched voice.

I couldn't help busting up. I snatched it out of his hands. "Fine. I'll wear the damn thing... Only because it's the only black dress I own. It's too damn dressy for a funeral," I grumbled. The black skirt would go all the way to my ankles. "It looks like something Jennifer Lawrence would wear." I sighed, holding up the dress for further examination.

"It ain't that bad. Put it on, or we'll be late."

He clapped my shoulder in amusement, and turned to continue wiping off his old eyeliner to replace it with a different design, and he added a stitch along the right side of his mouth.

I grabbed the dress unwillingly and took it to the bathroom so I could at least wash my hair and clean up first.

I looked in the mirror, and hardly recognized myself. I had dark circles around my eyes from having hardly slept the last two days. It was worth it to me. I'd just wear a little extra makeup. My hair was a mess as well, but as soon as I washed it, the knots and tangles smoothed out into a dark green sheet that dripped down my back.

I dried my hair and applied my makeup after I'd put on the dress, going through a ritual, preparing myself for the emotionally tolling day ahead. It couldn't be easy on anyone, could it?

Taking in slow, easy breaths, I kept myself calm as I continued to work. I cleaned up my eyeliner a bit, and looked in the mirror one last time. My green hair was pinned back in a mess of curls, and my face was pale. I looked sick.

I held onto the eyeliner and tucked it into my purse, and headed back to my room to grab my shoes. I jumped when I saw my mom in there.

"Oh, there you are. Almost ready?"

I took another deep breath and forced a nod.

"You look beautiful." She smiled at me, and I gave a small one back, and went to grab my black heels off the bed. I hadn't picked them out, so clearly Andy had.

I laced them up, and when I looked up, he was there. He'd changed out of his Prophet jacket and wore a simple black t-shirt, which looked unusual on him. I was used to seeing him look like he just walked out of war with Satan.

He pushed some of his black hair back off his forehead and exhaled loudly.

"Ready for today?" he asked.

I nodded a little. "You?"

"As I'll ever be."

I frowned, finished organizing the contents of my purse, and I reached out to take his hand.

"Can people still see my hand if I hold yours?"

"Yes?" He said it like a question. "As long as you don't get excessively close to me, you'll remain visible."

"Okay... Hold onto my hand, and everything will be okay. If you get scared, or mad or anything, just give my hand a squeeze, and I'll squeeze back. That's how I tell you everything is okay."

He looked down at his left hand, dangling limply from mine, extended towards him.

"You're a good friend, Ash. A better friend than I deserve," he commented glumly.

I looked at him. "You're amazing, Andy. I love you very dearly, and I want you to be happy."

His eyes flickered to mine, then back to our interlocked hands. "Thank you," he responded, appearing distant from his usual self. "Let's get this over with."

He held my hand, his cold skin wrapped around my palm as we descended the stairs. I paid special attention to him, waiting for his squeeze of uncertainty to come.

"Ash, you ready?" my dad asked when I'd joined him and my mom in the foyer.

I nodded. "Yeah."

His arm draped over my shoulders and he guided me to the car. Andy remained there, his hand freezing, shaking slightly.

I pulled open the back door and pretended to be distracted for a moment, buying time for Andy to climb in first. As soon as I sat down in my own seat and shut the door behind me, his hand reached for mine again. A soft, squeeze curled around my hand, and I glanced in his direction without making his presence obvious.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

He nodded a little, and looked straight ahead. Eyes frozen on something in the distance.

I nodded back, and looked out my window, noticing that the cherry blossom trees in my neighbor's yard were beginning to bloom. I smiled, remembering how they smelled in the spring.

I looked over at Andy a few times during the drive.

"Where is the funeral being held at?"

"Heffron Park," my dad responded.

"So they're not doing it at the funeral home?"

"No, no, his family chose Heffron, because I guess Andy's dad would take him fishing in the creek there when he was younger, and the whole family has a lot of memories with Andy there."

I looked over at him for a second opinion. He gave me two short nods in return. I looked down at my other hand, resting limp in my lap, atop the pale folder that contained my sheet music. I was surprised that Andy hadn't asked about it yet.

I had brought the sheet music for Home Sweet Home by Mötley Crüe, In The End, the song I sang for him yesterday afternoon, and the final song would be The Mortician's Daughter. But I wondered now if it was appropriate, given how Scout had effected Andy's past.

We pulled into the small, dirt parking lot outside the park. It was fenced in for the most part, with beautiful trees bordering the entrance. I had been here a few times when I was younger, and like Andy, I played in the river, made mud pies and caught fish with my parents for dinner.

A warm breeze blew through my mom's open window, and lightly dusted her hair back. I leapt a little when I felt something cold against my shoulder blade, and I looked over at Andy, but he was leaned across the seat between us, touching something on my shoulder.

"You have a tattoo?" He grinned, overjoyed, and easily distracted. I nodded, wishing I could engage with him more on this interesting topic. Of all the things we'd talked about, the mutual interests in tattoos was not one of the topics.

"When'd you get that?"

I pulled my hand from his, and held up ten fingers behind my mom's seat, then I tacked on another five. I had gotten it when I was fifteen. My parents took me on my birthday to get the simple treble clef on my left shoulder blade, because of my obsessive love for music.

"And I'm just now seeing it? Geez..."

I pressed my lips together and gave him a small smile. Being with him around other people was difficult. I could close the gap and sit right next to him, and we could talk as we pleased, but my parents might freak out if their daughter suddenly disappeared from the backseat, and then reappeared.

We climbed out after we'd parked, and I took a deep breath, hearing the birds chirping and flying through the branches above.

Andy's hand was in mine again in an instant. I looked at him, and he gave me a thumbs up. "You have to meet my family now." He smiled cheekily. "You're the one who should be worried."

I couldn't tell if he meant that or not, but I began to worry anyway, and followed my parents down the thin trail to where they had the funeral set up. Rows of folding metal chairs with the name of the rental place stamped on the back were lined up in a few simple rows.

In the front was the casket table, but the casket hadn't arrived yet. There were towers of flower bouquets around the table, as well as a registration table, cluttered with family albums and framed photos of Andy with his family and friends.

I stayed close to my parents until they began talking to some people.

"Asheen, this is Andy's mother, Amy Biersack." My father introduced me to a woman with short, reddish brown hair. I stuttered, then felt Andy shove me in her direction. She was a little shorter than me, but wore a warm, kind smile.

"Hello, dear."

"Oh, hi." I smiled at her. "It's nice to meet you." I jabbed Andy in the ribs, pretending to be stretching my arms backwards.

"Nice to meet you, too. I sure appreciate the service you're providing us. It might not seem like much, but our Andy was an avid music lover, and he would love this."

I nodded. "You're welcome." I smiled at her.

"Hey, Amy."

I turned around and saw the remaining members of Black Veil Brides approaching Andy's mother. I looked to him for an explanation, and he grinned. "They always had the 'mother/son' relationship with my mom, partially because she always baked them cookies when they came over for band practice."

I looked back and Amy hugged them each as though they were actually her own kids. "It's nice to see you boys again. Oh yes, one more thing! Asheen, this is Christian, Jeremy and Jake, they used to be in Andy's band. Jake volunteered to play the acoustic guitar for your set if you need him to." She gave me another warm smile, and I looked at the one named Jake, and realized how intimidating he looked.

"Thanks," I choked out, and he nodded.

"We should probably be signing in, we'll chat again soon," my dad told Amy, and she smiled as we went to the registration table. I looked over all the mementos that were set out, and smiled at Andy as I flipped open a family album, to immediately be met by a picture of baby Andy.

My parents were further down the table and wouldn't hear us talking.

"Awhhh," I cooed, pointing at the picture, and he rolled his eyes.

"Dammit..." he cursed under his breath.

I flipped the page to a picture of his third birthday, in which he was wearing a Winnie the Pooh sweater. I couldn't help grinning. "You're adorable," I snickered, and he groaned.

"Nope, no more pictures for you." And he slammed the album shut. I stuck my tongue out at him and turned around, only to almost walk into CC. He looked at me in confusion, then looked behind me.

"Uh... Mind if I ask what you were sticking your tongue out at?" he asked.

"Oh, uh... Nothing," I covered up, watching him narrow his eyes at me suspiciously, and then walk around me and swat at the air. Andy jumped out of the way to avoid the blows.

"Andy! Back from the dead!" CC snickered jokingly, before taking a sip of his punch and tossing the rest in the direction of the 'ghost', then walking away chuckling. Meanwhile, Andy stood there looking down at his punch stained shirt.

"Dammit..." he cursed again, peeling it over his head and discarding it in a puff of smoke, and reproducing his Prophet jacket, replacing his nice shirt. "Want to look nice at my own funeral, and damn CC can't let that happen... Just like in high school, if you even dared wear something nice to school, he'd stain it so you had to change into your less desirable back up clothing." Andy snorted in annoyance, and I was busting up.

"I'm serious." He grinned. "Come on, before he comes back and starts using a Ouija Board, sprinkling salt in a circle around himself, while shaking a burning bush of sage."

"Aren't some of those things used to get rid of a ghost? Not attract one?" I whispered as we walked towards the stage area set up just in front of the coffin table. Someone had brought in an old upright piano, since a grand piano wouldn't have fit into a trailer.

"I don't think CC would know the difference..." he murmured as we walked.

I snickered.

"Hey, uh, Asheen, right?" I turned around and Jake was there, with his thick, Kiss styled black hair and brooding expression.

"Just Ash," I corrected, noticing Andy walking around him, punching his arms.

"Mr. Turner told me last night I'd be playing with you?" He trailed off.

"Yeah. I mean, if you want to."

"Sure... What are we playing?"

I looked at Andy, and gave him the most discreet 'get lost' face I could, without weirding out Jake the way I had CC.

He grumbled, but left, crossing the small field, heading towards the creek.

"Last night Mr. Turner dropped by a copy of your guys' EP. I listened through it, and I was thinking, The Mortician's Daughter."

"Sure. I can do that. Anything else?"

I shook my head. "Nope. The other two are just piano. Thanks for helping me out," I added on gratefully.

He nodded, and headed towards the stage to check out his gear. I looked around for someone I knew, someone familiar, but all the faces I saw, all the eyes I met, were either related to Andy or friends with him, so I decided to go find the man myself.

I headed towards the creek when no one was looking, and came upon him, hidden by the trees, looking at the water. I stood beside him, but said nothing for a while. I hadn't asked him yet if he'd made the decision, and I didn't think I would. It was none of my business, and I didn't want to make him change his mind and choose something he didn't actually want.

"It's almost time," he said, standing there looking out at the surrounding forest.

I leaned back a bit to get a better look at the back of his jacket.

"Are those... Handcuffs?" I laughed.

He continued to look like a lion might look over its pride. "Yes," he answered in a low voice.

"Why?"

"Yes."

"Huh?"

"Yes."

I smacked him in the arm with my purse. "Dammit, Andy," I scolded him, laughing. "I ask you a simple question and you go fricking silent assassin mode."

He grinned and smacked my arm. "We need to get back. They're starting soon."

We headed back up the hill, and one of my worst nightmares came true. Standing a ways up the hill was CC, staring at me with suspiciously narrowed eyes. I looked down.

"What now?" I whispered, and Andy realized that we'd been noticed. Well, not him, but me.

"Act normal, and for fucks sake, stop hitting me! That's why he's looking at you like you're mental." He snickered. To anyone else, it would've looked like I was beating the air with my purse like a weirdo.

I went to sit next to my parents, and Andy sat in the empty chair I saved him on the end of the row. I held out my hand, and he took it, looking nervous again. The hearse had pulled up in the lot behind us, and they were unloading the casket.

"All rise," the priest ordered, standing in front of the crowd on the sheet of green carpet that they had the whole funeral set up on.

We all stood and turned in the direction of the casket bearers, hands resting over our hearts, silent while a soft song played through the speakers. I was okay, because there were far taller people than me around, and I couldn't see the casket yet. I kept breathing evenly, and then I felt a squeeze. I looked back at Andy and he nodded towards me. He was using the 'I'm okay' squeeze to reassure me.

I nodded, and looked forward again, gently squeezing his hand back.

But sooner or later, the casket bearers would reach the front, and they did. The carried it, on their shoulders, all of them wearing a solemn, saddened and rehearsed expression as they carried Andy to the front and rested the casket on the table. Everyone continued to stand. Andy's mother, Amy, and her husband, Chris, stood up beside it, in a very uniform posture.

They unlocked the casket lid and lifted it open, and suddenly, Amy was squealing in surprise. People in the crowd with getting concerned, standing up, trying to see what was wrong. Chris held a hand over his mouth in shock while his wife stood there staring in surprise.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, pointing at the mortician. Andy was snickering next to me. Jinxx got up to see what was the matter, stepping up to the casket, his eyebrows pulled together and then he laughed.

"That would be Andy in his natural habitat."

Amy looked in shock, and slightly infuriated, looking over at her son. She finally sighed after several tense moments, realizing it did look more like him than the original idea would have.

"Fine..." She sighed in irritation.

Jinxx guided Amy and Chris back to their seats just off the stage, and the priest continued.

"Now, as per request of Mr. and Mrs. Biersack, and Mr. Turner, Asheen Emily Hunter will be performing for us."

My breath hitched in my throat in horror, and Andy nudged me. I squeezed his hand and looked at him. He nodded and smiled, and pulled me up with him. He guided me towards the piano bench, and stood off to the side, just to my right.

I refused to look at the crowd, all those expectant faces. I sat there, and I placed my hands over the ivory and gave my mind a chance to catch up and begin playing.

The intro to Home Sweet Home was soft and endearing, and the heavier notes stuck a bit of reality and sadness into it.

"You know I'm a dreamer, but my heart's of gold... I had to run away high, so I wouldn't come home low. Just when things went right, it doesn't mean they were always wrong, just take this song and you'll never feel left all alone..." I looked over at Andy, and he stood there with his arms crossed, smiling as he listened.

"Take me to your heart, feel me in your bones, just one more night, and I'm comin' off this long and winding road. I'm on my way, I'm on my way, home sweet home. Tonight, tonight, I'm on my way, I'm on my way, home sweet home..." I hummed the interlude, and played back into the verse softly.

"You know that I've seen, too many romantic dreams, up in lights, fallin' off the silver screen. My heart's like an open book, for the whole world to read, sometimes nothing keeps me together at the seams... I'm on my way, I'm on my way, home sweet home..."

My fingers glided over the keys. The old upright piano gave the song a strange sound. An antique feeling, I guess, to describe it the best. I continued to play, and smiled over at Andy, forgetting that I was seated in front of a crowd of people. The song's last verse drifted the song to a close.

I took a breath while the applause rained down, and I tried to block it out, not to have a panic attack.

I reached up to adjust the mic a bit.

"Okay, so... Um..." I racked my brain for a nonchalant way to introduce the song Andy wanted me to play. "I wrote this song a while back, and I hope it helps you find comfort," I concluded, and I sat back down and adjusted my sheet music. Taking a deep breath, I began to play.

"I know of a place, hidden away. Darkness cannot join. In the sun we can stay. We can talk, and we can smile, you won't disappear, and we'll walk for a while.  
The darkness that is out there, cannot find us here. We are safe, here, on the other side.  
Do not grieve for I am gone. I have found my place with the Lord, He will keep me safe, and life was just a game. A test for the final judgment. Do not cry that I am gone, smile because I am still here. I've never left, and never will. I'm always here.  
In the End. "

I was so relieved when that one ended, and Andy was smiling with so much joy, I thought he might explode. But what he didn't know, was that it wasn't over yet.

"I'd like to ask Jake Pitts to join me on the stage for a very special song," I introduced, and Andy looked at me in confusion. I met his gaze, but gave nothing away. Jake climbed up on stage and donned his acoustic guitar, and took a seat on the stool behind me, and got ready.

"This song had a great deal of meaning to Andy, and I think he'd appreciate it if you could all sing along... So, sing along if you know the words..." I looked down, and signalled Jake to start playing.

The piano didn't come in until around the second verse, so I sat there, waiting for my chance to sing.

"I open my lungs, dear," I sang softly, and smiled back at Andy. He stared at me in shock, stuttering, trying to comprehend the lyrics coming from my mouth.

"I sing this song at funerals... no rush. These lyrics heard a thousand times, just plush. A baby boy you've held so tightly, this pain it visits almost nightly. Missing hotel beds, I feel your touch.  
I will await dear, a patience of eternity, my crush. A universal still. No rust. No dust will ever grow on this frame, one million years, and I will say your name. I love you more than I can ever scream.  
We booked our flight those years ago, I said, "I love you, " as I left you. Regrets still haunt my hollow head, but I promised you I will see you again, again."

I grinned at Andy then, listening to Jake strumming in the background, combined with the piano, created a very uplifting sound.

"I sit here and smile, dear," I grinned, and looked down at the keys. "I smile because I think of you and I blush. These bleeding hollow dials... This fuss.  
A fuss is made of miles and travels, when roadways are but stones and gravel. A bleeding heart can conquer every crush.  
We booked our flight those years ago, you said you loved me as you left me. Regrets still haunt your saddened head."

I looked to the crowd, and there was a combination of people crying with proud smiles, and people singing along, swaying to the music softly.

"But I promised you that I will see you, we booked our flight those years ago, I said "I love you," as I left you. Regret's no longer in my head, but I promised you and now... I'm home again, again, again, I'm home again, again, again.  
I'm home again."

Jake finished strumming the last chord, and it hovered in the air with the piano chord. When I looked at Andy again, he had tears of joy in his eyes, and was laughing. The crowd exploded into applause and cheers, and tears were falling left and right. Jake hopped down from his stool with his guitar, and I pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you," I whispered before pulling away, because I wanted to thank him on behalf of Andy, for all he'd done for him, and for myself, for helping me play through that song.

He nodded, and for the first time, he smiled, and I smiled back, turning to be pulled into an embrace by Amy. She had tears in her eyes, but her smile was so wide and proud.

"Thank you so much, Ash. I greatly appreciate it... And I think, Andy would have loved it, too." I smiled into her shoulder, and looked behind her, and sure enough, Andy was grinning and nodding.

"I would," he told me with a soft smile.


	15. Goodbye.

More and more of Andy's family and friends stood up to share their stories and speeches. I was grateful to find that none of those shit-talking bitches from school had shown up.

It was actually more light-hearted than sad and tearful. Andy got to laughing until he was mute when Jinxx and a few friends he went to school with got up and did a rap cover of Knives and Pens, and everyone was laughing and smiling.

Personally, I feel like that's more of what funerals are for. Giving the living a chance to overcome their loss with one another and reflect, with humorous bits from the person's life. It made people understand why the loss had to happen, and respect it, and smile in pride because they got to know them and love them before it was their time.

Unfortunately, the afternoon drew to a close, and they announced that it was time to bury Andy. People began to get up and walk to their cars, some stayed behind and helped load things up. The hearse left first, leading the line of cars to the cemetery outside of town. I gave Amy and Chris another hug each, and apologized for their loss. They smiled and thanked me, and told me I was welcome to visit them any time. I nodded in agreement, wondering if one day I'd find the courage to tell them I communicated with their son during his final days. Or after his final days, should I say. Maybe they'd believe me.

Everything was cleaned up quickly because the amount of help we had. Andy gave me a tight hug when no one was looking.

"I'm going to ride with my parents, if that's okay?"

"Of course." I pulled him in for another hug, and watched him walk after his parents to their car. According to customs, they were supposed to get to drive directly behind the hearse.

Almost like clockwork, as we pulled out from the park, it began to rain... Silver droplets slid down the glass of my window, peeling away the sunny day, stripping the clouds of their sunlight.

Saying I was 'bummed out' was a major understatement. I could feel myself coming apart at the seams. I hadn't had the chance to just... say goodbye to Andy. To thank him for everything. Maybe that's how this is supposed to be. That's how death works.

The cemetery wasn't far from the park, and we were all climbing out of our cars again. Luckily, the rain had eased up for now, but I had my doubts that the day would finish out without it raining at least one more time.

The hearse was parked along the sidewalk, and the casket bearers carried it across the damp, green grass, setting it down beside the pre-dug hole. Grieving people gathered around it, arms around each other, interlocked in some embrace of comfort. The one person I wanted to hug would make me disappear, and that would probably scare a lot of people.

"Ash!"

I looked over my shoulder and saw Andy, standing beneath a scraggly little tree. He beckoned me over. I slowly stepped back from the crowd and jogged over, realizing the tree was just big enough to hide us from view.

My heart dropped as I rounded the trunk and saw him. Not him, exactly, but what he was wearing. He wore a crisp black suit, identical to the one in the casket. He had a tie, resting smoothly against his throat, and his smile was careful and apologetic.

"I'm sorry," he apologized when he knew I understood what this was.

He pulled out something from behind his back and handed it to me. I looked down at it. It was a simple paper bag with a fabric object inside.

"Don't look yet. I want you to keep it for me. Keep it to remember me."

My lip quivered, and I nodded, hugging the bag to my chest. "I will."

The corner of his mouth pulled up in a half smile. "I'm really glad I got to meet you, Asheen. You're even more extraordinary than I imagined."

I looked down so he couldn't see the tears welling up in my eyes, but somehow he knew. He approached and wrapped his arms around me, and I disappeared into his embrace, just as dead and invisible as him. He held me there, his hands rubbing small circles into my back. There was nothing I wanted to say, because every combination of words just screamed the end. This was the end, and we both knew it.

He checked the fancy watch he wore, which was another relic from the coffin. "I have a half hour," he told me softly, and I nodded into his chest.

"I'll never forget you being my first panic attack," I joked with a quiet laugh, and I could hear his vibrate in his chest. I could feel his cold skin through his shirt and jacket, and with my head placed against his chest, there was one thing that made him far from human, and far from real.

He had no heartbeat.

It was silent as a stone, besides the soft whistle of his breaths entering and exiting his lungs pointlessly. It's not like he needed the air anymore, it was just a reflex. A reflex from another life and time.

"You know I need to do this," he whispered, placing his chin atop my head, embracing me in the same way I had the night before, sharing the same bit of comfort.

I closed my eyes, and a tear rolled down my cheek, and I whispered into his jacket lapel, "I wish you were real."

He didn't respond, so I assumed he hadn't heard me. I just squeezed him a little tighter, and he squeezed back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. "But we're out of time."

"I understand," I murmured, and I pulled away, smiling up at him sadly. Taking in his face, committing it to memory forever. I never wanted to forget him.

He guided me back to the crowd, his hand resting on my back, careful not to take away my visibility. I approached everyone just as the priest began to read a passage softly, his voice rising above all other sounds, shaking the very heavens with the strength of his words.

I watched Andy slip from my side, and walk around the group slowly, and kiss people's cheeks, pat their shoulders, and whisper things in their ears, while they buried their faces in tissues, agonized at the sight of the six foot hole in the ground.

At last, he'd said his goodbyes to everyone there, and he approached the coffin, looking down at himself for an impossibly long amount of time. I got caught up watching him, selfishly wishing he'd change his mind. But my heart continued to sink, and I continued to keep my brave face on, even as he opened the lower cavity of the coffin and climbed over the edge to lie down inside, joining his body in the final goodbye.

I couldn't see him anymore and I started to shake. My dad asked what was wrong, and I responded that I was just cold. But in reality, the shakes were the beginnings of something dangerous. A panic attack on the brink.

I fought back against my negative thoughts in an attempt to stay calm.

"Now, if you have an item you would like to present to Andrew, do it now," the priest said, stepping aside, making room for the line that had already formed. I slipped from my parents’ side, and made sure I was the last in line. I wanted to take my time.

Andy's parents were first, and people respectively waited. I couldn't even begin to imagine the level of grief that they were fighting. Mine would feel like a playground scuff compared to the agony they were in.

The line drifted forward, but I didn't really notice. I was nervous, and in a daze.

When I was the last one, I hesitantly approached and looked down at him. He didn't open his eyes or smile one last time, and I feared that he was already gone. That he was wrong, and that was the catch. Once he lied down with his body, he was automatically sent into the next life.

"Andy..." I whispered, tears welling up on the brink of spilling over, but no one was looking our way to notice.

"I know I bitched a lot..." I smiled sadly, lifting my purse to rest it on the edge of the casket while I dug through it for the item. "Especially about you using my makeup. But hey, you've gotta look badass while you look for Ashley, right?"

I pulled out the small tube of liquid eyeliner and rolled it around in my hand for a moment in thought, before I reached forward, and tucked it into the lapel of his jacket.

"Take care," I whispered, at a loss for anymore words. I brushed my fingers along his hand, and it wasn't even the icy temperature I was used to. It was just cold.

I stepped away and wiped the tears from my cheeks, but more quickly replaced them.

"Honey, are you okay?" an elderly woman asked.

"Yeah," I answered, my voice cracking. "I'm great."

I went to find my dad. "Dad, can I go home? I'm not feeling well..."

"Do you want me to drive you?" he asked. I shook my head, truth be told, I needed the time alone.

"No, I'll be fine. I love you." I hugged him before I left. I peeled off the heels after a couple blocks of walking, and just let them dangle from my fingers as I walked numbly, and as aimlessly as a zombie. Struggling to process that I had just lost what I now admit to myself was the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

Andy was wonderful. Always knew what to say, how to make you smile, even if you were pissed. We were never really angry with each other, and we stood by each other all week, and it felt like a lifetime. I took him places he'd never been before, and he took me to do things I never imagined possible. I got to experience my first concert with him, and it was the greatest night of my life. Watching his former band mates, listen to them play his old songs, and watching the music move through him, because he understood it, he always had.

I just wanted away. My walking slowly sped up, and I was jogging, then sprinting, then I was running. I was flying up the blocks of street and concrete between me and home... But that wasn't where I wanted to go. I wanted to go somewhere where Andy had never been, somewhere there were no memories, but he was everywhere, all around me. His name was written in the rain that was picking up again, falling down on me...

Restoring balance to earth for a little while...

I slowed to a stop and remembered why I loved the rain. I loved it because of how it made me feel, and the rush of standing in it was roughly similar to how I felt talking to Andy. He was the rain... He was the wind and sun, and the trees growing in the earth. He was the vines growing on the burned out house on Apture Road, he was something living and breathing, even though I couldn't see him

This is how I remember Andy Biersack. I remember him with every rain drop.

The boy who fell, and where he landed, he soaked through, bleeding into the surface, spreading out, and in retrospect, warmed my heart and made me experience the greatest things, all in one drop of rain.

My dress was dripping as I kept going. Weighed down, it dragged on the sidewalk slightly and frayed around the bottom. My feet were sore and wet, and I dragged on further up the empty street as the rain picked up into a pour. I held out my hand, and admired the drops colliding with my palm.

"Andy," I whispered in recognition, feeling him there, in those cold drops.

The only difference was... As I called his name this time, the same as the first, he didn't materialize out of thin air, with some cocky remark. The street was silent, other than the sound of the rain splashing against the pavement around me.


	16. Interlude.

By the time my parents had gotten home, I had lost all control. I went up to my room sopping wet and sat in the window seat, my dress dripping on the hardwood floor, but I was too numb to really notice it.

I didn't answer when my parents knocked, and I left the door locked. I had to learn how to cope again, and deal with things like the adult I was aspiring to be.

As I sat there, I remembered the last package he'd given me, and I got up and went to my desk. The paper bag was mostly speckled with rain water, and probably soaked inside, but I opened it anyways.

My fingers froze and I stopped breathing when I looked down into the bag, and from the bottom, looking back at me, was the words in bold, white font: Prophet.

I continued to pull out his worn, sleeveless denim jacket, stuffed and rolled neatly into the bottom of the bag.

I unrolled it on my bed, carefully smoothing out the damp wrinkles, running my fingers over the pair of handcuffs on the back and listening to them jangle and clank, the way they did when Andy ran, clashing together on his back. A minor background noise that I hadn't realized meant so much to me.

The tiger head emblem stitched onto the back fascinated me for a moment before I flipped it over and admired all the buttons and patches that adorned his jacket. A small, Batman pin on the upper right shoulder caught my attention, and I smiled a bit. He had quite the fascination with Batman.

There were many details I had missed before, and I took a moment to take in each of them, hoping it would help me understand him better. But my moment was interrupted by a knock on my bedroom door. I considered just not answering it, but my parents would start to freak out if I didn't. So unwillingly, and reluctantly, I approached my door and undid the lock.

"Oh- honey?"

My mom looked at me in surprise, standing there a mess, my dress dripping on the wood floor and my hair frizzy.

"How long ago did you get home?"

"An hour," I replied, trying to force a bit of life into my tone, but it was just flat, a tone forced by my frustration, annoyance and hurt.

"Then why are you still wearing that?"

I shrugged a little and sighed, pacing back into my room.

"Why don't you go take a nice, hot shower, and head to bed early?" she suggested, and by this time I was standing in front of my bedroom window again, looking out at the pouring rain, thunder and lightning.

"Sure," I replied, trying to force some upbeat sound into my behavior. I turned and my mom looked at me in concern. I looked at her brown, anxious eyes, and for a moment, considered telling her what was wrong with me. Tell her about Andy, and tell her the reason I'm so upset now, is because my heart is broken.

But instead, I walked towards her and accepted the dry bundle of clothing she extended towards me, and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

~~~

I avoided the mirror, except to take the time to wipe off my old, smudged makeup and brush out my tangled, damp hair. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. My body was achey and I was probably coming down with something. All because I had to stand out in the rain like an idiot.

I put on the cotton pyjama pants and white tank top, not really caring what my mother had picked out for me. I headed back to my room and checked my phone for the first time in a few days. Normally, I'd check it every ten minutes to see if I was fortunate enough to have messages.

Surprise hit me when I scrolled through fifteen new texts, and I checked them. The most surprising, most certainly, was the one in my inbox from an individual named Christian Coma.

"How did he even get my number?" I mumbled, opening the text curiously.

Hey, Asheen...  
Yeah, I know you don't know me, and you're probably wondering how I got your number, but that's not important.  
What is, though, is something I noticed today during your show: how you kept smiling to your right as you played the piano. Not just cause, either. You kept looking at the same place...  
I'm just thinking, it's had me kinda weirded out, how I saw you interacting with some invisible force all day. I'm sorry if I bothered you, and you don't even have to text back, if you don't want to. But the suspense is killing me.  
-CC

I bit my lip and re-read it a few times over. Only now, I didn't have Andy to confide in and ask him if this was going to be a problem. I was alone with my thoughts, and had to solve it myself.

I decided not to answer right away, and I went to the other texts. Most of them were from the nice people that went to my school or church, who were also at the funeral, complimenting my show, but I couldn't bring myself to smile at their words. The last one was from Elizabeth. Instantly, her tone was excited.

Ash! I just saw it on YouTube!

"Huh?" I texted her back. What? Saw what on YouTube?

It took her a few minutes to reply. Your performance! You performed at that guy's funeral? Anyways, someone filmed it and posted it. Everyone loves it.

My eyes widened in surprise, embarrassment and anxiety.

Link me?

A few moments later the link popped up in my chat box, and I tapped it, waiting for the page to load. The title came first.

Pendant, Utah Student Asheen Hunter performing a cover The Mortician's Daughter by Black Veil Brides.

I hit play, and watched the shaky camera man zoom in and pan on me, singing the second verse. He hadn't filmed the first half of the song. The film was shaky, but you could still tell something was up with me. I continuously looked to my right, where, to me, Andy had been standing. I paused the video and scrolled down to read the comments.

She's really good!  
Why'd she keep looking over smiling?  
What band is this? This song is amazing.  
This girl should be on The Voice!  
Ugh, people like this make me sick. Singing a song about death at a damn funeral?  
You go, Ash!  
I remember hearing this song in high school. Awesome job! :)  
Holy crap, it's Jake Pitts.

I scrolled back up to watch the remainder of the video, then I went back to my messages.

Who filmed it? I asked her, waiting for her reply.

No clue. It was uploaded by someone named BeautifulLifeXx. Any clue who that might be?

Nope.

Hm, who knows... Maybe this is the start of your music career!

Unlikely. I'm not very good at it. I mean, not like BVB. Their original version was absolutely beautiful. Andy was the singer of the band.

Andy?

The boy.

Oh. Hey, I've got to go. ttyl

I turned off my phone and sat by the window, contemplating what I'd respond to CC with, or if I'd respond at all. I looked over, and sure enough, the jacket was still there, lying in a limp heap. I reached over and pulled it into my lap, and curled up in the window, hugging the fabric that smelled sweetly of cigarette smoke.

I missed Andy so damn much already, it hurts, and makes me ache, knowing I will never see him again. Not physically, at least. I hopped up and went to my mirror to pluck the photo of him out of the corner of the frame, and I looked down at it.

Sitting back down by the window, I put in my headphones, and turned on the Black Veil Brides album again, staring out the window, holding the picture and his jacket.


	17. Heal.

The next morning, I woke up in a dream state.

I had stayed up most of the night listening to music, lying in bed on my side, watching the window and waiting for Andy to climb in, out of breath and slam the glass shut behind him, because no one else could hear him. But he never came.

I had to face the heartbreak that morning when I woke up, and he still wasn't there, sleeping lazily in the reclining chair. He wasn't anywhere, and I whispered his name to be sure he wasn't.

Absolute silence.

It was, in a way, like losing your pet dog. You can always hear them pitter-pattering around the house, barking at stuff, and occasionally paying you a visit in your room. Always coming when you called their name, and they were always there for you. Same applied. I couldn't hear him messing around with my stuff, trying on my cross jewelry in my mirror or investigating my makeup collection while listening to my music on my phone with headphones. He wasn't laughing or grinning. It was silent.

I drug myself from the warm sheets of my bed, and damn near forced myself to get dressed. I had to wear a nice dress for church. It was Sunday, after all. I put on a dark blue, long summer dress and my Converse. It wouldn't matter because they wouldn't show anyways.

My mom poked her head in fifteen minutes later and asked if I was almost ready, just like the day before. I nodded in a reply and slowly made my progress until we were out the door.

Everything moved in a blur, yet the day dragged on. I kept waiting, kept thinking I saw someone sit beside me, or laugh with a deep voice, and I'd look around, but he was nowhere...

People came up to me after the service and commented on my performance. Some thanked me, others said I sounded nice. We ran into Amy and Chris on the way out, and I awkwardly avoided their gaze. Because I'd look at his mom and see his impossibly blue, bright eyes, and I'd look at his dad, and see his kind, genuine smile.

Of course, they thanked me again, and had to have another hug. But the difference was, neither of them smelled like Andy. The smelled like perfume and cinnamon. Andy smelled like sweat, cigarettes and mint.

As we finally walked through the front doors of the chapel, I looked to the sky, but it was wide, blue and cloudless for miles. The worst of the storm was gone now, and had taken Andy with it. That was my theory: it had rained every day since his death, and on the one-week anniversary, it was bright and sunny, without a trace of all the rain we'd gotten yesterday.

"Hey Ash," my dad interrupted my thoughts as we walked to the car. "It's about time you get your license."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed, squinting at the sun. "You've been sixteen for months now. It's time to take that next step into adulthood."

I nodded. Normally, I would have been absolutely psyched, because it had been my dream to have my license since the beginning of time, but now that the opportunity was here I didn't feel motivated anymore.

"Okay," I agreed, trying to rack my brain for some positive bits to add on, but all I could come up with was, "At least then I don't have to take the bus to school or walk anymore."

Dad grinned and patted my shoulder. "Right! Won't that be great?"

I put on a smile, because it wasn't his fault for my sombre mood, and I chose to let this whole thing bring me down, even after I swore it wouldn't. Dad smiled back at me, and I looked at his bright, excited brown eyes, and wished I could tell him everything without him throwing me into an asylum.

Would my parents do that? I wondered. Would they betray me straight off and decide that seeing spirits was enough and they didn't want to claim me as their daughter anymore? Andy had already confirmed it wasn't just me who could see him; he chose to make it that way. But if I told anyone I could see him, they'd want proof, and he wasn't around to give it. The artefacts I had of his existence were all things I could have stolen from his parents’ home like a crazy person, and people would just think I was weird.

Normally, that thought wouldn't bother me. In fact, I usually embraced being weird. But today I just wanted to be picture perfect, cookie-cutter normal like the rest of them.

We got into the car, driving under the hot sun to go get lunch. I leaned against the window, recognizing the familiar intersection as we drove through it, and for a moment I could swear I still felt the rain on my skin, the smell of smoke in my lungs, and the feeling of desperate hope in my heart.

~~~

The next morning was just like the rest of them. Except today was Monday, which meant I had to return to school.

I had spent the rest of my Sunday in the music room, letting an old Beatles CD play faintly in the background while I practiced and brushed up on every song I'd ever learned on piano, and admittedly, played The Mortician's Daughter twice, hoping it'd be enough to summon Andy from the grave, and he'd tease me about being obsessed with the song. But like my previous attempts, he didn't show.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. I should be happy for him that he chose a final ending for himself, and went to find his adolescent years’ best friend in the next life, but I couldn't make myself feel that way. To be honest, I felt jealous of Ashley. And I never felt jealous of anybody. I accepted why other people were doing things better than me and why they were more successful, and I congratulated them. But now I was just upset that Andy had left to possibly chase a pipe dream.

Pulling a lame, random outfit together from my closet, I begrudgingly got dressed.

After I had, I looked at the denim jacket, still lying on the window seat, and contemplated a moment before grabbing it and putting it on over my shirt, and then putting my hoodie over it. If I was correct in assuming it was Andy's trademark appearance, then people might recognize it and want to know where I got it, so it was best to keep it hidden for now. I only needed it as a reassurance item, anyway.

I did my makeup dark, to reflect my mood, which usually never deviated from smiles and rainbows. It was unusual for me to feel less than myself, to feel unhappy. I'd never really faced depression in the past, because I was never bullied or anything. I always blew off what negative things people had to say and carried on, but this was something else entirely. I couldn't tattle to the principle on this; I couldn't tell my parents someone called me ugly in the halls, because this negativity lived in my head, and I couldn't get it out.

I walked out to the curb and waited for the dorky little yellow bus to pull around the corner. I already had my headphones in, blasting the most unhealthy thing I could have: Mötley Crüe.

It couldn't be healthy to keep his existence living in me. Listening to his music, looking at his pictures and wearing his jacket. It was like an obsession, except I was taking it as a loss.

I chose to take the bus, because the route to the school on foot already was tainted with Andy. From the night we'd walked there together to dig up his capsule, to the days I walked to school in the morning, I'd just start to remember more about him than I was comfortable with.

I could close my eyes and still remember how he looked. Every detail about him was permanently burned into my mind. But for how long it would stay like that, I wasn't sure.

Approaching the bus doors, I could already hear the screams and excited squeals of the other teenagers inside over my loud music, and it made me think something: teenagers scare the shit out of me.

I boarded anyway, and had learned years ago to avoid eye contact as I walked down the aisle to the back of the bus, where the nerds sat, talking about my kinds of things: music, movies, video games and books. I never actually threw myself into their conversations, but I always listened to them and thought they might make good friends, but I never approached them.

Leaning back in my chair, I pulled up my legs and scrolled through my music. I had also taken the time to import the Black Veil Brides album onto my phone so I could listen to it anywhere.

After a few moments of hesitation, I finally hit play on what had become my favorite track off the album: The Mortician's Daughter. It was so soft, and Andy's voice sounded kind, and the message he delivered was hopeful, because in the end, his character does find his way home.

"Hey, loser."

I looked up almost too eagerly, already used to Andy's rude but joking introductions. A damp wad of paper hit me in the face, and the jocks sitting in the front of the bus broke up into a chorus of laughter, high-fiving each other. I felt anger burn in me for a second, but burn out just as quick. I didn't have to stoop to their level, even though it made me wonder what the fuck I'd done to any of them. Bullies would be bullies and they wouldn't care who it was they did it to.

I looked down and ignored them.

Another came, and more laughter followed. I narrowed my eyes at the floor, creating an imaginary scenario in my head of what Andy would do if he were here. Would he make his presence known and beat the crap out of them, or do something hilarious that they were unaware of?

I focused on that to keep from getting angry, but then the insults started.

"I saw your cover video last night. You suck so much only the dead want to listen to you," a jock named Kirk sneered, a cocky grin on his face.

"I bet even Biersack was rolling over in his grave, thinking to himself, 'God, take me to the light!'" his friend shouted dramatically.

They were just words... Words like knives, thrown haphazardly to damage and hurt me more than I already was. I held my breath to keep from lashing out at them, and saying something so absurdly hateful, angry and aggressive it'd get me expelled.

By the time the bus pulled up in front of the school, I felt wounded. I had succeeded in ignoring their hurtful words, but they stayed with me as I stepped off the bus and went to my first class.

I ignored everyone who approached me, because to be honest, I didn't have the mental capacity for them today.

After History, I pulled out my phone and hid in the girls’ bathroom for a while. I just wanted to share this story with someone. It was killing me keeping it a secret.

I scrolled through my contacts, and found CC on the list. Selecting his name, I began to work out my rough text, dancing around the details for now.

CC,  
I'm not sure I can even explain what it was that was a force behind me yesterday. It's something I'd rather discuss in person, but I doubt you'd believe me. If you want the story, meet me at the café on Main Street at noon.

I had already decided that I'd be ditching the rest of the school day. It was clear there was nothing here I desired to do anymore, and I needed just one more day of rest. Chances were no one would notice if I was gone, anyway.

Elizabeth and Mark approached me after biology to both congratulate me on my show, and ask for details about the funeral. I answered as vaguely as possible, because to be honest, I wasn't really there. I was more caught up in what Andy had been doing the whole day than paying attention to the small details that played out throughout the service.

While they headed to lunch, I turned against the tide of teenagers, hurrying to the cafeteria to get a good seat before the other classes were let out. I glided through the crowd, imagining I was invisible, and it worked. No one looked my way as I shoved through the double doors at the end of the hall and took off into a sprint up the street, headed for the café to wait for CC and see if he'd show.

For now, I wasn't technically 'ditching'. As of early high school years, students are free to eat off of school campus, however, if I was not back after my hour was gone, I was breaking school rules and could get in trouble. But the idea of trouble was oddly comforting and brought a smile to my face.

I'd already shoved my ear buds back into my ears as I walked up the sidewalk, searching the awnings above for the title of the café. When I finally spotted it, another block down, I picked up my pace not to waste any time.

I slipped inside like a shadow, and went to the booth beside the big glass windows and sat there, crossing my hands on the table, nails painted a metallic dark green. My hair was frizzy from the breeze, so I lowered my hood and smoothed it out, and looked out the window for a familiar face.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, a waiter came over and asked if they could get me anything. I agreed on a coffee, which I don't normally drink, but I had nothing better to do, plus it would help me blend into the surrounding crowds better and make me look slightly less like a ditching teenager.

After another ten minutes, I checked my phone for the time and messages. No replies. It was already 12:35, and I wasn't sure how long I wanted to hang around for. I tapped my fingers impatiently in a pointless rhythm on the table, wondering if CC had decided that his curiosity wasn't worth the trouble of tracking me down. I wouldn't blame him, especially with how I ended my message. It didn't tell him what he was in for or what to expect. For all he knew, I had no info for him at all and he was just wasting time to come sit here with me.

Another five minutes and I was about to leave, when a man in a hoodie and leather jacket stepped through the door, pushing his black hair off his forehead. He searched the crowd of faces until he noticed my unmistakable bright green hair and narrowed-eyed stare.

He wove around tables and waiters to get to my table, and scooched into the booth facing me. He crossed his hands on the table top in an identical fashion to the way I was, and watched me nervously, as though he didn't know what to say or he was waiting for me to speak first.

"So..." He sighed, trying to relax against the leather backing of his chair. "Must've been urgent if you asked me to come all the way down here."

I shrugged. "You call it 'urgent', I call it a meeting place close to school."

"Are you ditching now?"

I checked the time. "In another fifteen minutes I will be. If you would have hurried up…" I cracked a grin. "Doesn't matter, though. I was going to skip out, anyway. I mean, I got called out on the fucking bus this morning. I don't need their shit on top of everything else."

"I get it," he agreed, nodding.

"So... You want answers?" I inquired, getting straight to the point. This wasn't a secret meeting like in the movies, where the spies trade manila envelopes, a few slightly flirtatious words, and then never see each other. This was me and him sitting down to discuss the death of someone we were both close to, and struggling to find the right words.

"I'd prefer them, if there are any... It just had me curious all day, because I caught you multiple times, smacking the air, smiling at things, and looking in the same direction constantly in the same time frame... What was that?"

I sighed, my stomach churning uneasily. I clasped my coffee cup in both hands, looking at the steam rising off the golden brown liquid inside that I had no intention of drinking. "You have to be open minded," I finally spoke. "That's all I ask."

"Open minded? It's pretty clear what it was, or at least, what it appeared to be." He scoffed. "You see ghosts?"

"Ghost." I corrected quietly. "Just one."

His brow scrunched up in confusion. "Who?" he asked.

My face smoothed clear of emotion as I spoke his name. "Andy."

A million things played out across the man's face as he looked at me. First, anger, for even mentioning him. Then sadness, fear, curiosity, disbelief, confusion, and a small bit of joy.

"What? Andy?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure it was even-"

"I know it was," I said holding up my hands. "He could speak and interact with me, and it was like he was real. I could touch him and my hands wouldn't go through him, he could open doors and windows, and still do everything a human could. But the difference was that to someone like you, or anyone else, anyone he's not allowed to let see him, or doesn't want to, can't see any of his actions."

He looked at the table with a distant expression. Finally he spoke. "How the hell do I know you're telling the truth? Make him appear, then!"

"I can't," I whispered.

"The hell you can't..." He grunted, getting upset. He wanted to believe it, I could see it in his eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to.

"I really can't... I can't see him anymore, either. He chose to cross over yesterday."

Instead of reacting sympathetically, CC snorted in disgust and disbelief and leaned back in his chair, looking at the other people in the café. "Damn waste of time," he muttered.

"I can't help what he decided!" I hissed at him, struggling to keep my voice low. "I'm telling you what I fucking know, and what you wanted to hear, remember? You already thought I could see ghosts until I told you which one, now you can't even consider the possibility-"

"Possibility?" he demanded in annoyance. "My friend is dead, and you want me to consider the possibility that he is still on earth in some form?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"He was there, you know..." I whispered after a few minutes of silence, watching CC brew in anger across from me, struggling to keep his cool.

"What?" he groaned in disgust, glaring at me.

"That night at the bar? He was there when Black Veil Brides played the acoustic set of Knives and Pens."

He continued to glare at me, but recognition flashed in his eyes, but he didn't show it, even as shock began to unfold across his face.

"You know it, don't you?" I murmured.

"No," he replied firmly, shaking his head.

"Yes... You heard him. You all did. He thanked you all after your set, and you all turned around and searched the crowd for him. He was there, and so was I. You couldn't see me because of how close I was to him. Anything within a foot of him instantly becomes invisible. You couldn't see either of us, but you heard him, and you are in denial," I replied firmly, leaning back in my chair, arms crossed tightly across my chest. I would not be called a liar.

"I might not have Andy himself here to prove it, but I do have a source of proof, if you want it."

He glanced up at me then looked down at the table again. I dug through my backpack and produced a small Polaroid photo of Andy and his band before a show, all wigged out in their weird makeup and clothing. I slid it across the table to him, and his eyes lit up in recognition.

"A few nights ago, he took me to the school yard to dig up a capsule him and Ashley buried there his last year of high school. That was one of the items."

His hand was shaking uneasily as he ran his hand over the photo, as if he was slipping into the memory for a moment.

"You don't have to believe me, or even like me for that matter. Just don't hate me for saying all of this, okay? You can keep that. Andy would want that." I nodded towards the photo.

He looked conflicted, his brow pulled together in confusion, and I knew that he knew about the school capsule, and he knew that there was no way I could know about it unless I'd heard it from the horse's mouth.

"Okay..." he finally spoke. "I'm not sure if I even agree with the physics of this whole situation, but for what it's worth, I believe you." His eyes flickered up to mine. "Thanks for taking the time to share this with me... I... I don't even know what to say." He chuckled in disbelief, looking down at the photo again.

"I guess... I should've guessed it was Andy..." He smiled fondly after a bit, flipping the photo over to look at the back briefly, and it was my turn to be confused.

"Huh?"

"Because when you texted me, you texted CC, and no one but Andy called me that."


	18. Eternity.

CC and I parted ways a half hour later. He followed the sidewalk that went south, and I followed the one that went north, slowly taking my time back to the school, oddly enjoying how it felt to break rules even thought my heart was beating out of my chest, wondering what might happen if I got caught.

It was put in the back of my mind, behind far more important things, like getting caught up in the streets and my surroundings of Pendant.

But eventually those got dull too, and I left the city behind, in turn, for the house on Apture Road.

I approached it, the swaying brown grass moving aside like it was a homecoming. But looking at the old house, only half standing, consumed in all walks of life, from vines to moss, with bird nests in the rafters, I felt like it was home. The place was familiar. I'd been here many times, and always felt the familiar wave of closure close over me.

This time I felt uncertainty, but also belonging. I wanted the closure I so desperately sought, and I felt like I'd be more likely to find it here than on Andy's grave.

As I got closer to the house, I could almost see an aura of welcoming light around it. I smiled, and pulled off my hoodie as I crossed the field and tied it around my waist, stretching out my arms at my side like wings, embracing the warm breeze that blew my way. The Prophet jacket fluttered lightly, and I could hear the handcuffs on the back clattering as I walked. It was almost as if Andy were still there, because of all the damn noise his clothes made.

Squeaky leather, rattling chains, dangly crucifix earrings and necklaces, and the clanking of the handcuffs.

I sighed in relief. I felt relaxed now, breathing in the fresh air instead of being cooped up in my room, where I would have been if I hadn't been out here.

I think that's something people leave out when comforting others about loss. They forget to mention that the key to closure is finding a balance between doing things that remind you of the lost, and find new things to refresh your mind.

That's what I was doing now, and at that moment, I felt okay. I didn't feel like I had to count down the seconds until clouds rolled in and ruined my day with negative thoughts and self-blame.

I walked around the house, just lingering in the shadows a bit before I stepped through the burned out hole in the wall, and kicked over the same crate I'd sat on last time, looking across at the fruit crate where Andy had sat, listening to me sing for the first time.

I crossed my legs as I sat there, leaning back. A warm breeze swirled around me, and I smiled, breathing it in. Considering it was only mid-spring, it was beautiful, and the birds knew it was warm weather. They were already building nests and swooping through the air in low arcs.

I could hear them singing, and I could look up in the exposed rafters of the house and see them hopping around across the wood, picking up bugs and seed from the vines that twisted in an aimless direction across the side of the house.

Knowing how I felt was one step; understanding it was the next one, which I believed would be the hardest, since I never truly understood the situation, nor did I ever understand Andy.

After a while of sitting there enjoying the sun and breeze, I pulled my journal from my backpack and tapped my pen against the pages as I wrote some new lyrics. They seemed to flow effortlessly from me today, translating everything I felt onto the paper.

I looked down at the words indifferently, particularly the line: All the colors in the world collide at once, but as you step away from me, it all bleeds into another grey night. Drawn up in my cold mind, I struggle to find a reason you couldn't stay. I'm drawing pictures of you, but a detail gets lost and your face fades from mind. I'm becoming forgetful.

I got up from the crate, set my journal aside, and stepped out of the house, and walked further out into the field, listening to the waves of brown grass sway around my knees. I sat down there, and lied down on my back, and looked up at the fleecy white clouds above, and like I had when I was a child, I searched for shapes. Animals, numbers, people, and cars were the most common things I found.

I leaned my head back for a better look and took another deep breath, concentrating on the small details of that moment. I could smell the warm air, and I could hear the birds in the air and the grass swaying, hiding me from view. I could feel myself hidden in the grass, invisible to anyone who would get too close. I closed my eyes and became very still, holding my breath for a few seconds, just to experience, and try to imagine what Andy had felt like. But I could never replicate that, and I didn't want to. The whole thing just made me curious.

My day continued on like that for a while, just pointless, relaxing things. I didn't really think about anything else, I just let my mind go as I looked at the churning clouds above.

My time seemed to run out too quick, though... Because when I checked the time an hour later, it was almost five, and my parents would make it home before I would if I didn't hurry, and things would be suspicious.

I pulled myself up off the ground, wiping the dirt off my jeans, I headed back to the house to pack my stuff back into my backpack.

I remained solemn as I went through the motions, taking my time because I really didn't want to go home, back to my room, where I'd be bombarded with his false presence.

The walk back didn't last, either. And by the time I started walking past houses, I had to put my hoodie back on to conceal the Prophet jacket, just in case anyone recognized it. But then I realized it wouldn't matter, because I was like a shadow to everyone. They didn't notice me until I spoke or took action. I was just there.

Unfortunately, I was already cooking up a lie when my house came into view, and with it, both of their cars, parked in the driveway. They were already home early from work.

I buried my hands deep in my jacket pockets and kept my head down as I approached the front door.

When I got inside, I heard my parents in the living room and headed in the direction of their voices, and found them watching Fox news while sharing their mutual opinions on the new race of presidential candidates.

"Oh, you're home," my mom said in surprise when she noticed me there, awkwardly standing in the doorway.

"Sorry, gym drug out..." I apologized, having to take a moment to even remember what my last class of the day normally was.

"How was school?"

"Great," I replied with a semi-enthusiastic tone. The part I caught, anyway... I thought to myself. "I've got some homework to catch up on. I'll see you guys at dinner." I excused myself and headed up the stairs to my room.

It was lie, too... Any observant person would know I finished my homework obsessively, and never missed an assignment unless I was physically incapable of doing it. All I had from today was a history assignment, but why bother? I had no intentions of going to school tomorrow, either. There were lyrics to be written and clouds to be watched, and I didn't want to place myself in a room with those dick jocks again.

I went to my window seat and hit play on my CD player, and grabbed Andy's photo off the desk for another unhealthy dose of memories.


	19. Trouble.

My dad drove me to school in the morning, and after his car was out of sight and he was headed for work, I turned around and headed for Apture. I got out of the school lot before anyone could notice I had been there and tattle on me.

I jogged for a bit, until there was enough distance between me and the school grounds, then I put in my headphones and enjoyed the walk there.

Like yesterday, the sky was broad and blue, speckled with small white clouds that weren't a threat and couldn't possibly be carrying rain.

Just because I was in an upbeat mood, I switched my music choices to a P!nk album, and enjoyed that for the rest of the walk. When I got to Apture, I paused the song and approached the house with the same careful behavior I had the day before.

Like opening a door you'd never seen before, it was always a mystery what I'd find when I approached the house. Sometimes I found a raccoon, scurrying away into the brush. Sometimes just a flock of doves hooting in the rafters, and sometimes it was absolutely nothing.

Today, it was nothing. And like yesterday, I wrote for a while, then I sat on the floor and traced patterns in the peeling wallpaper. I watched the clouds, admired nature, and sat there alone.

Loneliness never really bothered me. In fact, I usually embraced it. There was no one on planet earth who I felt like I could speak openly to, and even my parents got a little weirded out by me when I'd tell them about the music I liked. So loneliness, or solitude, was my answer, and I always felt content in that state of mind, even now with everything that has happened.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the crinkly wallpaper, and stayed very still for a while. It was peaceful there, even though the house could sometimes put you on edge, because of how it creaked and how decrepit it looked, but right then, it was the only place on earth I wanted to be.

I seemed to drift, the exhaustion from the last couple of days caught up to me, and I passed out.

~~~

I shot upright like a bullet, confused and terrified, surrounded by darkness. I stumbled and tripped over one of the crates and scuffed my hands when I fell to the floor, realizing where I was.

"Crap," I muttered, getting up in a hurry and pulling out my phone. I lit up the area around me and checked the time.

7:46.

"No, no, no, no!" I panicked, grabbing my backpack off the floor and running out the side of the house, charging across the field for the dirt road. I was running so fast my lungs felt like they'd explode. I already knew the fate that was waiting for me at home... Two worried sick parents, a search party, and possibly the cops. Crap.

I charged down the empty dirt road to where it intersected with the main paved road. My mind was running in panicked circles, bound to get me lost if I didn't pay attention. I ran west, pushing on, forcing my legs to move faster until they burned. A whole mile and a half adventure was packed into a seven minute run.

I was going to be in so much damn trouble...

I could see my house, all lit up, and sure enough, two police cruisers were pulled up along the curb in front of the yard. I cursed repeatedly under my breath, slowing to a walk so I could catch my breath, still forcing a brisk walk to the front door.

I grabbed the handle with a shaking, cold hand, my heart beating out of my chest. I turned it and stepped into the foyer, and everything stopped. I counted nine people straight off. Three cops, my mom and dad (who looked very upset talking to one of them), Mr. Turner and his wife, and Amy and Chris, Andy's parents.

Everyone looked at me, surprise and shock in their expressions. I stood there, dishevelled, looking sheepish.

"Asheen!" my mother exclaimed, crossing the room in two seconds to embrace me tightly, followed closely by my dad. I squeezed them both, dreading what came next after their relief wore off. And sure enough, as they pulled back, they were both angry. No, furious.

"Asheen Emily Hunter, where the hell were you?! We've been worried sick!"

I stuttered, and they got madder.

"When I got home for my lunch break, there was a message from Elizabeth on the answering machine asking if you were sick, because you were gone most of yesterday and hadn't even showed up this morning, when I dropped you off at the door." My father growled, his face red in anger. I'd never seen him so mad at anything or anyone. He was the kind of guy who even censored his own curses.

"Where were you?!" he shouted, looking hurt that I'd betray them both. And I had... I guiltily shook my head.

"I skipped school."

"Where'd you go?"

"Just on a walk..." I mumbled, shifting my feet.

"A walk for a whole afternoon?" My dad scoffed in disbelief. "Bullshit. Give me your phone."

I pulled it from my back pocket and extended it towards him. He snatched it out of my hand and shoved it in his own pocket.

"Hey!" I exclaimed.

"You can have it back at the end of the week. You're grounded." His glare was severe, and his mind would not be changed. My mom looked at me in the same way, the same look of betrayal. She wouldn't stand with me or even let me explain.

By then, the cops were interrupting us. "Sir, is there anything else we need to handle here?"

My dad waved them off.

"I'm glad you're home safe," Mr. Turner said sympathetically, patting my shoulder on the way out. The rest followed and my parents gave them a stiff thank you and goodnight.

After the door shut behind me, Dad demanded again, "Where were you? Something we need to know about?"

I shook my head. "No. I just... Went to that old house... Wanted to get my mind off of things before going back to school," I told him in defeat.

"Apture?"

I nodded.

"I get this is tough right now but you've got to step up, Asheen. You can't fucking run away when you're tired or scared. Jesus..."

I looked at him in shock. He never took the Lord's name in vain, ever.

"I was being bullied at school," I muttered, not that he cared what I had to say at this point, anyway. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"Damn straight you did." He crossed his arms impatiently. "Go to your room. We'll discuss this tomorrow.

"Dad-"

"Now, Asheen!"

I recoiled and looked at him. I understood why he was hurt, but his words were like knives. He wouldn't even let me explain. I pulled my backpack up on my shoulders and headed for the stairs, but my dad caught my sleeve and stole my backpack.

"Hey, I need that!"

"Really? Because you have homework to do, right?"

I sighed in defeat. "Fine. Whatever." I spun on my heel and stormed up the stairs, angry tears already in my eyes, running down my cheeks. I ran into my room and shut my door, locking it before I stumbled towards my bed and collapsed into the pillows and let out a wail.

I angrily curled my fingers around the pillows, trying to choke them out, anything to get the anger out of me. I felt something brush against my shoulder and rolled onto my back, angry tears in my eyes. "Leave me the fuck a-"

No one was there.

"Andy...?" I whispered. It was routine for me to do so, almost comforting.

"You were never even here..." I muttered hopelessly, rolling onto my side to hug a pillow tightly, looking at his photo propped against my bedside lamp. I grabbed it and looked at it again and again. I had since I'd gotten it. I'd looked through the Batman box several more times, as though it'd help me better understand who Andy had been.

I was tired but I didn't want to sleep because I was too upset with myself and my parents... I just... Felt like shit.

I lied there, feeling pointless. I kicked off my boots and awkwardly yanked off my hoodie, and curled up in the Prophet jacket. I controlled my breaths and squeezed my eyes shut.

"How unbelievably easy you have it now..." I whispered to Andy, wishing he could hear me.

"You don't have to put up with people's shit anymore. I know what I did was wrong... But he wouldn't even fucking listen as to why I did it. He didn't really care."

I was angry and talking shit, just wanting to tease a reply out of my imaginary friend. "Andy," I murmured, tearing up again, "I miss you so, so much. So much more than words can describe."

~~~

As morning light came, I remained in bed until finally someone knocked on my door.

"Ash, you're going to be late."

"Why the fuck does it matter, anyway?" I muttered to myself, not bothering to get up yet. The doorknob rattled, and my dad realized it was locked. "Ash, open the door." He sighed.

I continued to lie there, curled up with my thoughts and a photo of the boy who was my best friend.

I heard his footsteps fade away and I knew what his plan was. He was going to get one of my mom's hair clips and pick the lock. He had before, he'd do it again. Except the last time was when I was seven and locked the door and wouldn't open it, and he was home alone with me, and had to figure it out on his own without mom.

He returned, as predicted, and struggled with the lock for a few moments, getting in a hurry to get in.

I continued to stay there, not feeling motivated enough to get up and help him. I heard the door finally creak open.

"Ash!" He sighed in frustration. "You need to be at school in fifteen minutes."

"Fine." I sighed, begrudgingly pulling myself up from bed. I looked at him, and he looked back at me.

"Where'd you get that?" His eyes narrowed in confusion at me, pointing at the jacket I hadn't noticed I was still wearing, trying to figure out if I'd owned it before now and he just hadn't noticed.

"Hot Topic," I replied with a shrug. Chances were that's where Andy got it to begin with.

"Oh... Recently?"

"No. A while ago," I replied flatly, going to my dresser and assembling a random outfit. I didn't really care if it looked retarded, dressing in mostly black items. If I felt like being the Emo Bitch Andy always declared I was, then so be it.

He fidgeted awkwardly in the doorway until he cleared his throat, and I thought he was going to say something about last night and I tensed up, waiting for it.

"I'll be downstairs when you're ready," he finally concluded, shutting the door softly behind him. I didn't look up as he left. I just kept working away, painting the look of sorrow on my face in thick lines of eyeliner I wouldn't have been caught dead in a week ago.

I froze and actually looked at myself in the mirror. I mean, actually looked at myself. I'd been avoiding my reflection for days, and now I saw it. The evolution taking place in me. My makeup was considerably darker, and at the roots of my hair, it was turning black again, my natural hair color.

Maybe I'd just let it go back this time. Why bother with color when the world is so damn bleak?

Sighing, I put on my Converse, the green ones for some color, placed the Prophet jacket on under my hoodie again, and went downstairs to meet my dad. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, and extended my probably searched backpack towards me with a nervous smile. I snatched it from him and walked out to the car.

Parents were essentially nosy, and he'd probably read everything I'd ever written in my journal, like it'd help him understand better why I was acting out. I was careful not to write of Andy anywhere in there, for this reason. People always feel like they need to know what you're thinking, so they think an invasion of privacy is the only way to learn about someone instead of just asking them.

I sat in the front seat of my dad's hail-dented Toyota and looked out the window indifferently, sighing because I hadn't bothered to bring my headphones, because what was the point? I had no phone, so no music.

I was silent, so Dad turned on the radio for the remainder of the drive, but not to a music station, of course. I tuned it all out and glared out the fogged over glass, not exactly thrilled about facing school again.

As soon as the car was in park, I was out. "Love you," I told him, grabbing my bag and jogging inside before he could reply. I was in a hurry to class today, because I didn't need flunk added to my already impressive list of names to be called in the halls and on the bus.

I got into History just before the teacher showed up and sat there, listening to the sneering comments coming from the back of the room. It would seem I had taken over Andy's ray of popularity sunshine.

"Oh man, I think she picked up a case of the Emo at that faggot's funeral," snickered some girl in the back. I refused to look back and meet her eyes. I looked straight forward and embraced my differences.


	20. Fight.

School was rough from the moment I walked through the door that day. After history, I had a ten minute break before biology, so I reached into my back pocket but then patted them frantically before realizing my dad had my phone, with no intentions of returning it anytime soon.

I groaned in irritation. How unfortunate the whole situation was, and what a pile of shit the whole week had been.

Elizabeth showed up at my side a few minutes later, and for the first time in days, Mark was not at her side.

"Hey," she greeted me with a smile. I accepted her kind gesture gratefully, but was incapable of returning one.

"Hey." I sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"I got grounded yesterday, so my Dad took my phone. More importantly, my music."

I looked at her and she looked guilty. It wasn't her fault, she didn't know I was ditching, otherwise she probably would've covered for me. But she was concerned that I might be sick, so she took the time to call my house and check in.

"Is it something I did...?" She trailed off awkwardly, combing her fingers through her long, brown hair. I shook my head.

"No... It's actually on my part. I got home too late yesterday, and my parents had the cops, the Turners and the Biersacks at my house. So now my parents are pissed at me because it was like seven last night when I finally got back."

"Where were you?" she wondered in confusion.

"I just went to this old house I like to visit sometimes, and worked on some new lyrics. Ended up falling asleep though."

I watched Elizabeth fidget and struggle to say something supportive, but the truth was I didn't want her to say something supportive or sympathetic. I wanted her to slap my arm, laughing, telling me I'm a fuck up. Elizabeth was never open and direct with me, always careful not to step on my toes, but now that I'd had a taste of that kind of friendship I craved more of it – more of the genuine feeling. But it was clear I'd never get that from her, no matter how many years we'd been friends... And then, she said something that just set me off.

"You look different, Ash. Did you change your makeup?"

I recoiled like a snake, unsure why her comment bothered me so much, or maybe it just bothered me that my change in appearance was noticeable.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh..." She looked at me in confusion.

"I look like I crawled out of a grave, right?" I asked with mocking amusement, clapping my hands against my thighs, scoffing.

"I'm sorry, Ash, I didn't-"

"Didn't mean to call me a corpse? A freak?"

"I didn't say that." She narrowed her eyes, replying defensively.

"Well everyone's thinking it!" I declared, looking around at the other students in the hall. A few of them had stopped to watch our conversation unravel with mild curiosity.

"You know they are... And you probably are, too. Wondering why you can't be friends with a normal person." I shook my head, and she looked like she was getting mad, about to spit out some speech about me being beautiful and all that crap. She took in a big puff of air, but I blew out her flame before she could even get started.

“Just save it, would you? I'm not in the mood to hear it.”

Then a wave of shock and hurt was running through my whole body, my face cast downwards. Involuntarily, I reached up to touch her handprint. Anger flared in her face as she stood over me.

"I don't know who the hell you are anymore, Asheen. Get your shit straight and call me when you figure out who the fuck you are," she sneered angrily.

I rose to the occasion, clenching and unclenching my fingers as the anger boiled in me, like it had every time someone called me a freak or made fun of Andy. I could feel the red building up around my vision and the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I lashed out, my hand flying from my side, not flat, palm out, for a bitch slap. My fingers were bound tight, in a firm fist, headed for her pretty little face.

“OW!”

Elizabeth flew back against the crowd on onlookers in surprise, and instantly, the blood started to run from her nose and busted lip. She clutched them in pain, tears forming in her eyes as she shot a glare at me and tried to muster up the most hurtful thing she possibly could, but her words were taken by an anguished sob.

People were glaring at me, hugging Elizabeth and giving her kind words as they handed her tissues.

I could see the bright red crimson running between her fingers and staining the neckline of her pretty pink blouse. Blood pooled in the grooves of her teeth and matted in her hair, and the droplets on her cheeks thinned as the pained tears touched them.

I looked down at my left hand, her blood spilled across my knuckles in an abstract pattern, and suddenly I snapped out of it and realized what I’d done. I finally took it into account that I’d hurt someone. And not just anyone – my best friend.

“Elizabeth, I- I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, feeling terrible as I started to push through the crowds to get to her, but people kept shoving me back. I pushed against them more, and they just kept pushing back. Angry eyes met my terrified blue ones. I wanted to apologize, and they wouldn’t have it.

Elizabeth pushed through the crowd on her own and faced me, looking something of a mess. Her eyes were full of betrayal and hurt. She stood there sniffing, trying to muster up something to say.

“You’re right...” she says after a careful pause of thought. “You are a freak. No, a fucking psycho.”

The principal showed up then, with his posse of teachers just dying to get a student in trouble. They scanned the crowd like sharks, looking for the source of trouble. I stood there, feeling more like a victim than the villain. She hit first... I could say it was self-defence, but it wasn’t... It was just me losing my mind and taking it out on her.

My eyes were wide as Principal Johnson split the crowd with his hard glare and approached me. He already knew it was me. I had blood all over my hand. He looked down at me, his gaze neither angered nor hurt. He knew what he was doing, and how he was going to execute it, carefully calculating inside his shaved bald chrome-dome.

“Anyone want to tell me what happened here?” he asked calmly, his shared gaze with me never flickering to another face.

“Asheen punched Elizabeth for no reason!” someone cried out from behind me, and I cringed. He finally retired his gaze and walked towards Elizabeth, crouching to her height.

“Let me see.”

She moved away her shaking, angered hands, and revealed the swollen, broken lip, blood still dripping from her chin. And her nose didn’t look broken, but it was bleeding enough for it to be serious.

“Is this true?” he asked her, giving her the stare of truth. With a muffled sniffle, her eyes drifted from his to mine, and they were cold and emotionless as she answered.

“Yes,” she lied.


	21. Disappoint.

I landed a front row seat, with a great view of the rage playing out across Principal Johnson’s face as he sat there in front of me in his office. His hands clasped calmly in front of him on the desktop, but his face, particularly the vein on his forehead and neck, stood out broadly as anger shook in his face, but he said nothing.

He’d already called my parents; my dad, to be more specific. Last night’s pissing match would be child’s play next to how he would react to this.

I was panicking, and forcing myself to keep taking the deep breaths. I could hear Elizabeth sitting just outside the office, blubbering to the school nurse and the support woman who worked in the school, who we’d nicknamed “Peacemaker”.

I could hear her every word, and it agonized me.

“-I don’t know what’s wrong with her! She started talking about that... Andy kid last week and hasn’t been the same since. What if she’s possessed or something? Isn’t that something emos are capable of?!” she cried, and I almost rolled my eyes at how idiotic she was being right now.

“She just... Started being aggressive, missed the last two days of school, came back today wearing dark clothes and makeup.”

“And she never has before?” the Peacekeeper asked her in a professional tone.

“No. Never. Ash hated the color black because of how empty and bleak it was. In fact, the only black articles of clothing she owns is a couple hoodies, like two shirts, a pair of jeans and a dress, and even then, she doesn’t wear those all the time.”

“Do you think that Asheen Hunter is in danger?”

“Huh?”

Her words shocked me, and I listened closer, becoming terrified just listening to the labels they were placing on me because of how I looked.

“Asheen, do you think she is hanging out with a bad crowd?” Peacekeeper rephrased her question carefully.

“I don’t know, maybe? It’s a possibility. Maybe Andy’s old friends?”

“Do you think she would be in danger around them?”

“I never met them, but maybe.”

“Okay... Thank you, Elizabeth. I’ll be speaking with you again later.”

I could hear a pair of heels clicking across the school tile to signal that Peacekeeper had left, and now either Elizabeth sat out there alone or the nurse was still with her.

I still felt dreadful, despite what I’d just heard her saying about me and my friends. Anyone who knew Andy and admired him instantly became a friend of mine.

I looked down, upset and absolutely angry with myself. Principal Johnson finally spoke.

“What provoked you?”

I looked up at him, and I wanted to glare, but restrained myself. I wanted to tell him it was none of his damn business, but bit my tongue. “Does it even matter? I lashed out over something stupid and simple... I was angry.”

“Why?”

I narrowed my eyes a little. “Because I recently went through the death of a dear friend,” I replied, with no details or specifics. It was none of his business, and he didn’t really care. He was just getting this information in case Elizabeth’s parents decided to press charges or sue the school for poor security and hall monitors. He was just covering his own ass and wiping it twice.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His hands remained crossed and his posture professional as he continued to silently judge every fact of my existence.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, wincing when I heard a knock on the door behind me.

“Come in,” Principal Johnson called, all too excited to get started with the whooping.

My dad sat down in the seat beside me, and wouldn’t even breathe in my direction. I was so horribly far down the rabbit hole now. My dad would hate me for as long as I lived.

“What happened?”

I glanced at him, but he wasn’t addressing me, of course, he was addressing Principal Johnson. He looked eager to tattle on me. I sighed in defeat. Why did I even bother? I already told him she hit first, but he didn’t seem phased. Just because I was the weird looking kid out of the two of us, he wouldn’t give me the chance to plead my case.

As the brief details of my attack unravelled, I noticed my dad’s fingers clenching and unclenching angrily in an attempt to keep from scolding me. I’d embarrassed him, and now the whole town would know about it. He’d be a whispering topic, and people would point and say, “That’s the man whose daughter attacked that poor girl at the school. What a piss poor father. Didn’t he ever discipline her?”

“You’re free to take her home now,” he concluded, his hands resuming their calm position on the desktop.

“Huh?” my dad asked in confusion. “She can return to her studies, can’t she?”

“I’m afraid not. Asheen is suspended until Monday morning,” he finished up, his voice ringing with firmness.

My dad’s cheeks puffed out with unsaid words and frustration. His face had a red tint, like Principal Johnson’s did.

“Come on, Asheen,” he grunted, getting up and roughly pushing his chair in. I was hesitant as I left the room.

“Thanks,” I muttered to Principal Johnson for no reason. It was my secret way of saying “Thanks a fucking lot for getting me in trouble, asshole.”

Sitting outside the office, nursing her wounds with a collection of onlookers eager for her account on the fight, was Elizabeth. She glanced in my direction, but said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out, freezing in place. She looked at me and shrugged, looking down.

I pressed my lips into a line to keep them from quivering as I looked down, and followed my dad towards the exit at the end of the hall. I could feel the tears building up in my eyes, but I blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.

I was just tired and angry.

And there was no one to blame but myself.

~~~

I opened the passenger’s door of my dad’s work car, and knew I’d interrupted a good day at work for him. He didn’t say that I’d just ruined his day, but I could read it in the frustration on his face.

“Are you mad?” I whispered, looking down. I knew the answer, but I needed to hear him say it, because I couldn’t assume he was.

He pressed his lips into a line in thought, and for a minute I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, though, he did.

“No.” He sighed, and I breathed in relief, about to rejoice when he kept talking. “I’m just disappointed, Ash.”

I looked down again, this time in shame. Even my dad, who loved me more than anyone on earth, was disappointed with me.

~~~

Pulling into our driveway early was even more disheartening. I knew my mom would be home, because like I mentioned a long ass time ago in this story, she’s a seamstress and she was working on a gown right now in her sewing studio next to the music room.

My dad didn’t get out right away, nor did he order me to. He just sat there, staring at the windshield.

“What happened, Ash?”

I sighed. “She just said something that-”

“Not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head and looking down. “What’s happened to you? This isn’t you. Skipping school? Dark clothes and makeup? Hurting people?”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again.

“I know you are,” he replied, “but I don’t want an apology. I just want to know where my little girl went.” He looked over at me with those saddened brown eyes. I sighed, knowing that he could never know what truly happened to her. And as far as I was concerned, this was me now. And I felt sorry for my parents, because their sweet girl was gone, and I couldn’t even feel her in me anymore. She might as well be in the ground right next to Andy.


	22. Stop.

I got inside, and my dad followed. My mom came out of her work room a few minutes later, confusion on her face.

“You’re both home early,” she commented. “Something wrong?”

“I’ll tell her,” Dad whispered. “Go on upstairs. We’ll talk later.”

I walked away and headed up the stairs before my mom could make a comment. I couldn’t imagine how much this would break her heart. First me ditching class and worrying them both sick, and now I was punching people I cared about just for saying the wrong thing.

I took a deep breath and pressed my back against my bedroom door and listened.

“What?!” I heard my mom shriek in surprise and anger, and I sighed softly, closing my eyes and sliding down the door onto the floor. I covered my face in my hands.

After a while of hearing my mother shout at my dad about me, things went silent, and I figured that it was only a matter of time before they came to confront me. I got up and went to my window seat and waited, but then they never came. I waited in silence and the door never opened.

I decided that I needed some music to calm me down and get me back to a state of level headed-ness before I faced my parents again.

I played Black Veil Brides, which was becoming sort of my ‘medicine’ music. My Chemical Romance had been that for me every now and again, but this was just different. It was something I could really hold onto.

~~~

A little after three, I went downstairs and found my mom in the kitchen. Not cooking or anything, just sitting at the island clutching a white coffee mug, staring out the back window with a distant gaze. I was almost afraid to speak, because she looked on the verge of something.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again. The guilt was eating me alive, and she wasn’t planning on speaking anytime soon, from the looks of it.

She sighed and looked down at her cup, her auburn hair falling in strands from her messy bun. Her work button-down shirt had fibers of the colored thread she’d been sewing with stuck to it.

“I’m not even sure what to say, Ash, I really don’t.” She shook her head sadly, pressing her fingers against her temples, trying to rub out the stress that had invaded her life.

I silently approached and pulled up a seat from beside her and sat down, clasping my hands together. I looked down at them, carefully thinking through my choice of words. “I’m trying my best,” I finally told her, and I continued before she could start to criticize my pointless statement. “It’s going to be the last time I act out, I promise.”

Her eyes were worried as she looked at me, reading the emotion on my face. I hated to disappoint her and Dad, but the things I had done wrong were either experimental or just an act of defence.

“Ash...” She gave me a small smile and reached out to touch my cheek. Her eyes went to my forehead. “It’s turning black again.”

“I know.”

“I’m going shopping tomorrow. Want to get it redone?”

“No.” I looked down to avoid her look of surprise. She had proposed her statement as a question, but it was really just the polite way of her saying “Time to keep everything in line.”

“No?” she echoed in confusion and surprise.

“I actually am kinda curious to see what I look like with black hair again... It’s been years.”

“Um... This isn’t a part of some ‘finding yourself fashion exploration’, is it?” she hedged hopefully.

I sighed a bit. “To be honest, I don’t know who I am right now. I thought I did, and then I didn’t. I’m just trying to breathe and figure it out.”

“What’s troubling you?”

Her brown eyes would read everything in my expression if I didn’t lay low and play it cool. “Nothing... Just, the...” I paused to exhale and think. “After the funeral, kids at school started bullying me, because someone filmed me playing the piano and posted it to YouTube, and I became Funeral Girl from day one back to school. It just pissed me off... That’s why I skipped school for two days,” I told her truthfully.

“And when I went back, I just felt really self-conscious, waiting for someone to directly assault me, but it wasn’t even that... Elizabeth was just pointing something out, and the stress made me... Snap. I started yelling, and she started yelling, and then she slapped me. Not hard, just enough to put some sense into me, and I retaliated with a damn punch... I didn’t feel like I was in control.”

I looked down at my hands again, which had become sweaty with me telling my mother this uncomfortable story. I wrung them together and waited for her to say something, but her expression told me she was just trying to organize her thoughts.

“Oh...” was all she said at first. “So this was all because of bullying? Sweetie, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t... Didn’t... I guess I just wanted to handle it myself.” I sighed with a shrug. “It wasn’t bad or even constant, it was just the little things throughout the day that slowly began to eat away at me, and I feel like if it hadn’t been Elizabeth, it would’ve been someone else who crossed me wrong.”

It would’ve happened no matter what. I understood that now.

“Do you need me to talk to the principal?”

“No... No, I return to school on Monday. I can do it. I won’t do anything else,” I swore to her, because I couldn’t stand the accusing, betrayed look they kept giving me.

A few silent minutes passed before she spoke again.

“Now, I realize why this all happened, but you still ditched school, still didn’t tell anyone where you were, and you still hit Elizabeth, so I’m afraid the grounding is still in place until the end of the week.”

I nodded. I knew she would at least enforce that. And I could understand why she had to stand her ground with this, because no matter what or why, I still broke rules.

“Okay. Thank you for coming to tell me this, sweetie.” She kissed my forehead as she got up. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” I murmured in reply, lost in thought.

~~~

I had gone upstairs to get some reading done for my literature class, when I heard my father’s car pull up. I peeked out the window to be sure, closing my book when I recognized his vehicle. He’d gone back to work to salvage what was left of his work day, since his current project was ticking on a timeline, and I had interrupted his schedule a bit this morning.

I got up and decided to clean up the mess of emotions in appearance I was. My mascara and eyeliner was smeared around my eyes in a mess from all the crying I’d done that morning, and my hair looked worse for wear.

Taking the time to brush out my hair, I decided a shower was in order, as well. I got a clean change of clothes from my dresser before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

As the water ran from the shower head, slowly gaining a warmer temperature with the passing seconds, I listened to my dad on the phone in my parents’ bedroom in the next room. Chances were he was pacing as he talked, because he always does that when he stresses.

“I know... It won’t happen again, I can assure you... Of course. Bye.”

I stood there in confusion, wondering what that had been about. It could have been a number of things, but it was most likely that it was a call from his work.

I winced, because I was the reason he had to leave early, to sort out my school drama, and it costed him time on his construction job.

Finishing my shower, I put on a blue tank top and a pair of white shorts, since the weather was warmer, and I still had time for a walk before dinner was ready. I dried out my hair and took a damp wash cloth to my eyes, carefully wiping off all the traces of the ash-black eyeliner and mascara. I could finally breathe a sigh of relief when I looked in the mirror, and all I saw was me. Just me, not the girl who was trying to change for the sake of changing.

After I got out of the bathroom, I jogged downstairs and found my parents chopping up a variety of vegetables for dinner.

“I’m going for a walk, okay?”

“Not too far,” Dad warned as I headed towards the front door. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Okay,” I replied with a nod, and let myself out the front door. I began walking up the sidewalk away until my house was out of sight, then I reached into my back pocket and fished out the two quarters.

Luckily for me, Pendant wasn’t a fully upgraded town with all the bells and whistles, so there were still a few payphones around – very few, but they were there. And even luckier, there was one a few blocks from home, next to a car wash.

I still enjoyed the walk, because I was in no hurry to get there or home. There was just something I wanted to do, someone I wanted to call, someone who wasn’t family or attached to everyone else by a bunch of threads, someone I could just rant to if I wanted to.

The sun was nearing the horizon the closer I got to my destination, not quite sundown, though.

I saw a few kids skateboarding on the opposite side of the street, and a few minutes later, two girls on pink bikes with the tasselled handle bars and the basket on the front passed me on the sidewalk.

I personally never liked riding bikes, but I had always been kinda curious what it was like to skateboard, and always wanted to try, but my parents would never buy me one because it was ‘a boy toy’, and ‘it’s dangerous’. No worse than a bike, I’d say. You can easily fall off of both and get hurt just as bad.

I kicked pebbles across the ground with the toes of my Converse, trying to see how far I could kick them. I didn’t realize how ridiculous I looked until someone spoke up.

“You look like you’re trying to summon a herd of drop-kicking ninjas.”

I spun around in surprise – and even more surprised, I saw a familiar face.

“Oh, uh... Jake, right?”

“That’s right.” The man smiled, which was the first time I’d seen him do that in the entire time I’d known him. Then again... We did meet at a funeral.

He was walking up the same sidewalk as me, in the same direction as me, so God knows how long he watched me make a fool of myself.

“How’ve you been?” I asked conversationally, unsure how to continue on my mission without him following me out of curiosity and it somehow getting back to my parents that I’d been calling people from a car wash payphone.

“I’ve been better,” he told me with a nod, not in a rude way, just stating that he was getting better since the incident. “You?”

“I’ve been okay,” I replied, nodding slowly. “More or less, give or take.” I shrugged. He looked at me in confused amusement, the way Andy would when he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s just been rough,” I told him.

“Oh, I get it. Hey, it’s great seeing you, but I’m actually headed somewhere.” Jake pointed in the general direction of his destination. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You, too...” I looked after him in confusion as he kept walking up the sidewalk, dressed up in a plain black t-shirt and jeans.

“Okay...” I sighed, looking up, realizing I’d arrived at the car wash. The sound of water spraying echoed from the concrete building, and the steady stream of cars were lined up waiting to go in. I spotted the payphone on the south wall of the building.

Sighing in relief, I headed for it, and popped the quarters in, holding it to my ear in anticipation, looking over my shoulder, wondering if I was truly alone.

I dialled the number, hoping I’d gotten it right, because I’d only contacted CC a handful of times. But since he knew about Andy, he was the only person I could be open to right now.

I listened, the rings humming impatiently on the other end, but after four missed rings, I knew I’d just waisted my 50 cents.

Hey, you’ve reached Christian Coma. Leave a message.

I hung up and groaned, turning around and noticing how much lower the sun had gotten. I’d be late home again if I didn’t pick up the pace. I grumbled as I stuffed my hands in my short pockets and began cutting across the parking lot, standing on the sidewalk for a moment before I began to briskly walk home.

I was racing the sun, watching it lower itself closer to the ground with every ticking second. I was almost jogging five minutes later, the street lights flickering on around me, and the voice in the back of my head warning me to keep moving.

Then suddenly... I felt it.

I’d felt it once before, almost two weeks ago, on my way home from school. I could feel eyes on me, glaring into my back. I looked over my shoulder in paranoia, but the sidewalk was empty, and nothing accompanied me except the distant dog barks and train horns.

Walking faster, I could see my block, and further down, my house. I sighed in relief and sprinted for it, running up the sidewalk, and shutting myself inside my home, breathing heavily.

It was there, the calm gaze of a stranger staring at me.

I struggled to calm myself down, so my parents wouldn’t ask what was wrong. Because if they did, I wouldn’t have an answer for them.


	23. Talk.

"Ash?"

I stood there with my back pressed against the door, catching my breath before replying. "Yeah?"

"Dinner's almost ready," my dad called before appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Everything okay?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow. He clearly had his doubts about me right now, and I couldn't blame him, I guess.

"Yeah," I breathed. "I'm fine."

~~~

When I woke up the next morning, I found myself relieved when I looked out my curtains and saw the overcast skies. It hadn't been cloudy since Andy was here, and it was a soft reminder, I guess.

I changed into an old grey t-shirt since I'd be home alone all day, and changed from my pyjama pants into the same pair of white shorts from the night before. I grabbed my song lyric journal and a pen before heading downstairs.

When I got to the kitchen, there was a note from my mom telling me she had to get to work early this morning to deliver her dress to the modelling agency on Main Street. At the bottom of the note was her friendly reminder she was going shopping this evening if I wanted to get my hair dyed.

I set down the note and began to search the cupboards for breakfast when the doorbell rang. No one ever really visited, so it was a bit of a surprise.

Walking into the foyer and peering through the peek hole, I saw a familiar face, and was certainly surprised as to why he was standing on my porch. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his hoodie and he was swaying slightly, impatiently, looking over his shoulder at the Tuesday morning neighborhood.

I pulled open the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh." CC snorted sarcastically. "Good morning to you, too."

"Good morning," I amended flatly. "Now what are you doing here?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "It isn't my fault you never read your damn texts. You might've noticed I asked several times if I could come over."

"Oh... Sorry. Dad took away my phone," I mumbled, stepping aside and gesturing for him to walk in. He walked in and closed the door behind him, looking around the spacious room in surprise.

"I didn't peg you for a rich girl," he told me with a chuckle, looking up at the high ceilings.

I groaned. "How did you even get my address?"

"Mr and Mrs Turner," he replied simply, still revolving slowly, taking in the room. "They were reluctant at first until I told them I was working on some music with you. Then they were all for it." He grinned. "Needless to say, your neighbors could get you robbed and abducted." He flashed a wink before heading towards the kitchen. "Got any food? I'm starving."

"Uh... I was working on that. What are you hungry for? I'll make something."

"You don't have to," he said with a disapproving tone, looking through the fridge.

"Well I have all day, so..."

"Huh?"

"Grounded," I reminded him. "And suspended, so... No school." I shrugged.

He looked appalled and amused. "You got suspended?!"

Groaning, I paced away from him. Maybe this is why Andy and him were such good friends. They were very similar in the reactions department. "Yeah... I'd rather not talk about it. I've already had to recite it to my parents and the school principal."

"Okay, I can respect that... But can I at least ask for a keyword?" he asked curiosly.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the cabinet opposite to him with a disapproving look. "Girl fight," I responded.

He laughed. "Sorry, sorry, not funny."

He struggled to restrain his grin. I smacked his arm and smiled. "Laugh already, asshole. Scooch."

He stepped aside and I reached into the fridge and grabbed the carton of eggs, the pack of uncooked bacon, and the gallon of milk and orange juice, and placed them on the island, heading to the stove to heat up a pan.

"How do you like your eggs?" I called to him as I began cracking a few into a bowl absently.

"Scrambled is fine," he replied. I glanced up at him, and he was walking around the kitchen, still taking in the decor of the house. I nodded and cracked three more eggs into the mixing bowl, before turning to rummage through the tool drawer beside the stove for a whisk.

I got to work stirring up the egg batter while the pan warmed up on the stove beside me. "Okay-"

I turned around and CC stood at the island, flipping casually through my journal resting on the countertop.

"What are you doing?" I choked out in surprise and he looked up in confusion.

"What?"

"That! Why are you reading those?" I asked defensively, crossing the kitchen in two broad steps to snatch the journal out from under his hands.

"Um..." He hummed awkwardly. "If I could say something, I'd say those lyrics are really good," he hinted, but I was too embarrassed that anyone but myself had read it to accept his compliment.

"Sorry, I didn't realize it was private... It was just sitting there," he apologized. Running through my head were all the lyrics I remembered writing in there, and I wondered which ones he'd read.

"I'm sorry..." I apologized back. "I'm acting like a bitch, I'm sorry, I just... Don't have any experience sharing the level of emotion I have in these lyrics with an actual human being."

"I do have a name," he joked, pretending to be offended. A small smile appeared on my face, and I sighed, setting the book down, looking at the cover intently for a few moments. All those personal, heavy thoughts, smothered between two layers of cardboard and paper.

"Uh... Not to ruin the moment, but your pan is ready." CC nodded in the direction of the stove, where smoke was starting to rise in slender tendrils from the pan.

"Oh." I headed over, and dumped the eggs in, sprinkling them in seasoning, and began cooking them, nudging them around the pan.

"I ah... Forgot to mention why I came over," CC interrupted my thoughts, his expression sheepish, and his hands were buried in his pockets awkwardly.

"What's up?" I wondered in confusion, my eyebrows pulling together in concern.

"I... I wanted to talk about Andy, if that's okay. I mean, obviously, food is a perk of this trip, and seeing you, too, but... I guess I'm just looking for closure." He shrugged a little, as though he was unsure what else to say.

I looked at him sympathetically, and he rocked on his heels awkwardly. "Then I hope you can find it... I didn't even need closure after his death, and poof, here he was, and now he's gone, and I'm trying to cope with all I learned about him after he died. Not a problem I ever thought I'd have, honestly..." I shook my head and looked back down into the simmering pan, nudging the eggs where they were starting to thicken.

He didn't reply, but he looked thoughtful.

"Can you grab the plates? They're above the sink."

He snapped out of his haze and nodded, heading to the cupboard and pulling down two ceramic plates, setting them on the counter beside me.

"What was it like?" he wondered curiously, leaning against the counter beside me, watching me shovel the food evenly onto each plate.

"What was what like?" I asked, my brows furrowing as I looked down.

"What was it like, talking to Andy? Like what was the physics of it? Could you see each other? Could you touch him? Could anyone else see him?" he wondered, getting carried away.

I pursed my lips as I planned my answer. "It was like... I don't even know how to describe it, actually. It was just bizarre. It was like having a best friend, but an imaginary friend. The kind only you know about and can be with. He told me so much, and I told him stuff. He was like a living journal in a lot of ways. As for your other questions, the physics I was never too sure of. But like I mentioned before, if you stood close to him, you'd disappear. So would anything he picked up, like clothing items and such. Yes, we could see each other, when he chose to. Otherwise I could just hear his voice. I could touch him, if he was visible, like he was real. And no, not everyone could. He could choose to make himself visible, but in a limited capacity. No friends, no family."

I sighed, feeling dread telling him this. "At least, that's what he tells me," I add on for a hopeful note, but he looks troubled.

"How long did you see him for?"

"From the day right after the wreck, up until the moment before the casket viewing at the grave. But I did see him on the night of his death. He turned off the light in my room and was standing by the closet."

CC surprised me by laughing. "I'm actually not surprised by that. I mean, Andy had a thing for randomly popping up here and there, just to scare the shit out of you, and he'd laugh."

I handed him his plate and we sat at the island to eat. "What do you want to drink?"

"Got Pepsi?"

I looked at him in confusion, and finally just shook my head, deciding it wasn't worth questioning. I got up and went to the fridge, grabbing a can of Pepsi from the drawer and tossing it towards him in an arc. He caught it and slammed it down on the countertop with a grin.

"Where're your parents?"

"Mom had a modelling job, my dad works construction," I told him nonchalantly, pouring myself a glass of orange juice to set a good example.

"Your mom is a model?" He snickered in disbelief.

"Oh, no, no, I mean she makes the dresses for the models to wear."

"Oh, gotcha. That makes more sense." He nodded as he dug in.

We ate in silence for a few minutes before he sprung another question.

"So what kind of stuff were you able to do with him? Andy, I mean."

"Huh?" I asked awkwardly. "Like... What?"

"Sorry, sorry, that sounded... Wrong." He shook his head, laughing. "I mean, what'd you do, while he was here?"

"Oh," I said, busting up with laughter. "We went on walks and stuff. He went to school with me, and would dance on the jock's desk while they were sitting there."

"Sounds like something he'd do." He sighed in amusement, shaking his head. "Just walks? That's it?"

I sighed and smiled, leaning back in my chair, pulling up my knees to my chest comfortably. "We went to your show too, if you seem to forget. He used his 'invisibility bubble' to smuggle me in. And it was amazing, and my first concert," I told CC proudly.

He snorted. "Well that's why you thought it was amazing – you're an inexperienced concert-goer. I'll have to take you up to Salt Lake City this summer when Scorpions are playing their reunion tour."

"Scorpions? Seriously?" I echoed in disbelief, and he grinned, nodding.

"Hell yeah."

"We also snuck out... Twice." I pursed my lips to keep from smiling as I looked down. "Once to go to the school and dig up some box he was infatuated with."

"You told me about that... Mind if I see it?" he interrupted.

"Er... Sure..." I got up and put the dishes in the sink. "Come on up, there's more where that came from."

CC followed me up the staircase to my room. He snickered, already able to tell it was my room, just because the exterior of my bedroom door was covered in stickers and posters. "Your parents' room?" He joked, and I jabbed his ribs with smirk.

"Sure."

I pushed open the door and flipped on the light, heading to my closet to pull the Batman box down from the top shelf, where I'd put it in case my parents decided to make a surprise sweep of my room and found it. When I turned and carried it to the bed, CC was standing in front of my mirror, not admiring his reflection, but rather the photo of Andy and Ashley on his eighteenth birthday, in front of the mosh pit of a Mötley Crüe concert.

"He gave this to you?" he asked. Not in a jealous way, just assuming.

"Yeah." I sighed, standing behind him, looking at the photo stuck in the corner of the mirror. Even though I plucked it every day just to look at it.

He sighed after a few silent minutes and walked back towards the bed, and sat there, criss-crossing his biker boot clad feet on the blue comforter, looking down at the box in uncertainty. I turned away and went to the window to give him privacy to look through the items.

I stood there in front of the glass, watching the clouds twist and churn outside. The clock on my nightstand claimed it was almost noon. How had it taken us three hours to eat breakfast and talk? Unless I woke up late, and was just wrong.

"I remember this," he spoke up, and I looked over my shoulder. He held up the autographed guitar pick. He had a grin on his face. "AFI was in town a few years back, and since Andy was the youngest, he had to take someone with him or his parents wouldn't let him go. So he dragged us all out to Salt Lake City for this show, and literally put his school fighting skills to the test, elbowing guys in the face to get to the front of the stage. Afterwards, he got this signed pick from the guitarist."

He studied it in deep thought.

"School fighting?" I asked "What's that all about?"

"Oh, Andy didn't tell you?"

I shook my head.

"In high school he was bullied a lot, right?"

I nodded. "He told me that much."

"Well, sometimes he had to defend himself. He just learned how to fight, picked up a few things, and one night, we all went to this dance his school was having. We did a group thing, a bunch of lame ass bachelors." He made a sympathetic face for himself. " Andy gets into a fight with this jock... Austin Waters, I still remember that prick's name." He shook his head in disbelief. "Anyways, Andy came out on top, after he broke the guy's nose. Needless to say, his bullying picked up a lot after that, because Austin was too much of a pussy to come after him himself, so he sent his jock buddies to handle it. And one revenge was never enough... It was repetitive and like clockwork. Andy got to the point when he just ditched school after 2:34 in the afternoon, because that was when they were looking for him, a fifteen minute break between classes..."

I crossed my arms and listened to him continue to tell his story.

"And that's why Andy became all aggressive in the end," he concluded with a sigh, also closing the Batman tin after he'd looked over all the contents.

"Your room is obsessive... And girly." He wrinkled his nose, looking around my room from his position on my bed. "Like, you even out all the band posters you have with the purple walls and neon decor, but there's still that nice touch of an alternative rock fashion." He nodded in approval.

I grinned then. "Actually, Andy nicknamed meEmo bitch queen. So it's fitting, I'd say."

He was rolling back on the comforter in laughter. I grinned and watched him have a fit. "Holy crap..." He snickered, kicking his feet. "That's the best one you've told me yet!"

My smile shrank a bit as I remembered why I'd gotten that name in the first place. We'd been talking about his past briefly. He told me he'd been a brat to his parents, I laughed, and he told me I understood it. Saying then that I understood it because I too was a needy child, then he told me like every other emo bitch on the planet. To which, instead of becoming offended, I laughed and accepted it as my personal nickname.

"Hey, want to go play some music?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"My parents have a music room downstairs. Come on."

I was a little jittery to get him out of my room, my private sanctuary. I didn't really like anyone being in there.

We got down to the doors of the music room and I pushed them open, and to his surprise, it was more than just a record player and a few cassettes.

"Holy crap..." He sighed. "Well, now the puzzle pieces are all coming together. I know how you were able to learn The Mortician's Daughter so fast... You have a freaking piano!"

I laughed at his reaction, as he bounced around the room like a little kid in a candy store. First, to turn on a Kiss album my dad owned on the speaker, then he went to play some showtune thing on the piano. Then he went to the rarely used harp by the window, one that we had just inherited from my grandmother, whose arthritis prevented her from doing what she loved, which included playing harp.

"You have no drums," he finally stated the obvious, after having played with everything in the room. "Asheen, this cannot be an acceptable music room without a decent set of drums."

"I'll put that on the list," I commented, giggling. He looked flabbergasted, looking around the room once more before going to the piano to play some quick scales.

"You do realize your house is the coolest place I've ever been, right?"

"Ash?"

When I realized the words hadn't come from CC, I spun around to find my mom standing in the doorway, carrying two grocery bags under her arms. "Christian, right?"

"Mom! You're home early." I sighed in surprise.

"Am I?" she asked innocently, looking firmly at me.

"Yes, ma'am," CC replied with a satisfied smile. "Let me grab those for you."

He hopped up from the piano and grabbed the paper bags from my mom and went to the kitchen. My mom shot me a look of daggers.

"You had someone over?" she hissed low enough that CC wouldn't hear. He wouldn't, anyways, because he was whistling so loud in the kitchen.

"I didn't realize it was a part of the whole 'grounded thing'," I mumbled.

"It's not that. It's just that he's a boy, Ash. And not only that, but he's a boy a lot older than you!" she whispered.

"Only by a few years," I corrected, and her eyes narrowed. "Nothing happened, I promise. He just came over to ask if I wanted to play piano at his band's show tomorrow night, but I told him I had to ask you, so he just hung around and we jammed out, waiting for you to get home," I lied innocently.

Her expression softened a little, but she was still suspicious. "I'll talk to him."

I followed her into the kitchen. CC turned towards us upon our approach, a helpful smile on his face. "Miss Hunter," he greeted my mom, but she was wary of him. I shot him a frantic 'just go with it' look.

"Ash told me you came over today to ask her to play piano for your band tomorrow night. Correct?"

"Uh... That's right. We really like what she did for Andy, and wanted her to come play a few more songs with the band."

I shot him a grateful look, and sighed in relief that he went with it instead of getting confused, and then getting me caught in the act of lying, the day directly after the day I told her I wouldn't get into trouble again.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. But I'd prefer to wait until my husband gets home to make that decision, if you don't mind?" she suggested. Of course, they wanted to discuss the loop holes of my grounding issue.

"Absolutely. Mind if I hang with Ash until then?"

"Sure," my mom replied, but she still shot me the protective mother of daggers look before we headed back to the music room.

"That was close," CC whispered when we were out of her hearing range.

I nodded. "Thanks for covering for me."

He gave me a genuine smile then. "It's no problem. Any friend of Andy's is a friend of mine."


	24. Awkward.

When my dad walked through the door, there was an awkward silence. He stood in the kitchen, where Mom worked on dinner and CC and I sat at the island eating the carrot and broccoli tray my mom put out. Just shooting the shit, acting normal.

Obviously, I never invite anyone to my house. Elizabeth had only ever come over once, and it was for my fourteenth birthday party two years ago. I tended to avoid inviting people into my home, if I could. My parents knew this better than anyone, so my dad was just as surprised as my mom when he walked into the kitchen, finding CC there, all wigged out in his black hoodie, black skinny jeans, and matching black leather biker boots.

"Oh..." my dad murmured in surprise.

"Hey, Mr. Hunter." CC grinned at him. "Christian." He held out his hand, and my dad looked like an ass for a moment because he couldn't remember his name.

"Hey... Christian. How are you?"

"I'm doing good. How are you?" he replied, and I found it amusing how 'chipper' CC was being all of the sudden.

"I'm good. Thanks."

CC turned back towards me and flashed one of his trademark, sneaky smiles before popping another baby carrot in his mouth. I just shook my head sadly and questioned his sanity.

"So, Christian, what brings you here?" my dad finally asked when he couldn't take it anymore, and no one was saying anything.

"Oh, I came over to talk to Ash, actually," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Is that so?" my dad replied, forcing a layer of boredom into his extremely interested tone, as he pulled up a seat beside me so he could silently judge CC.

"Yes, sir. I came to ask her if she'd be interested in playing piano for my band tomorrow night. But she said she had to ask you guys," CC told him innocently. I caught the glance my dad sent my mom.

"I didn't know what you wanted to do with it," my mom replied without being asked for her input. She already knew my Dad wanted an explanation.

"Well... For starters, I guess, where are you playing?"

"It's a café on Rivers Street. I wouldn't have asked her to go if it was anywhere inappropriate," CC replied with a sudden undercurrent of authority, and it took my dad back a few steps.

"Oh. How late will this show be?"

"I'll have her home by 10:30, at the latest. If you need an earlier time, I can rearrange the playlist, if you want."

I could see the spark of approval in my dad's eyes and he slowly thought this through. "Do you want to go, Ash?"

"I think it'd be amazing practice," I said, avoiding the direct question to put my two cents in. "It's up to you guys. I already told him I would if you said yes."

Just a little pressure.

"Um... Honey?" my dad looked to my mom, and through silent expressions and hand gestures, they rested their case.

"Okay, Ash can attend. I trust you can handle getting her to and from the venue?"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't have to call me sir," my dad said with a flattered expression. "Dave works fine."

"Can do, Dave." CC grinned, thrilled with the progress he was making in the trust department. "It's only going to be like a six song set though, because another band is playing after us. We're opening for them. We'll be back early."

I listened to all the details CC was giving, and found myself getting so caught up in his lies, I was actually getting excited for the event that would not be taking place.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Christian?" my mom offered after he'd buttered them both up with compliments on their home and asked them both very interested questions about their jobs.

"Can I?"

"Absolutely. Ash, mind setting an extra spot in the dining room?"

"Dining room?" I cracked. "It really is a special occasion." I grinned, grabbing an additional plate and moving it to the dining room. We usually just ate at the kitchen island, and there was more than enough room for one more there.

Nevertheless, I carried the stack of dishes into the dining room that was just off the hallway from the kitchen, and began to set the table. I moved slowly, listening carefully to keep track of my parents' conversation topics.

I was grateful when it never deviated from music or work topics. I helped set out the food, and I made Kool-Aid, to remind my parents how ridiculous they were being with the fancy stuff.

"So, Christian, how long have you lived in Pendant?" my mom asked over dinner. I was curious, too. Even though it was a question I'd probably never ask him personally, I wondered.

"Whole life," he responded matter-of-factly with a proud smile. He took a drink of lime Kool-Aid before continuing. "I actually used to mow Andy's aunt and uncle's lawn during the summer, before he moved here with his family. I was mowing the lawn when his family came over to visit the Turners, and we just started talking." He laughed, and it clicked into place how he was able to get my address from the Turners... They were all good friends.

"My parents only live a block or two up the road, so it was always in walking distance."

"Where do you live now?" my dad asked with interest as he ate.

"Sage Apartments, west side of town. It's small and simple, but the rent is cheap, so I can't complain."

My dad pursed his lips and nodded, carefully filing this information away for later.

"So what else do you do besides music?"

"For now, that's it," CC told them, and my dad's expression changed a bit. "But I hope to go to college at some point. I'm just not sure for what yet."

"Did you graduate?" my mom suddenly asked. I knew she meant it in a way that related to college, but it seemed outright.

"Random question..." I mumbled awkwardly, watching CC proceed to wear his oblivious, joyful grin as he replied, "No, ma'am. I dropped out."

There was an awkward silence, and I could literally feel any respect my parents had for CC draining from the room with the ticking seconds. It was clear that any positive vibe the dinner event had was now long gone.

"Uh... I actually have to get home to feed my dog," CC suddenly said, looking down at his wrist, where no watch was. "Thanks for the dinner, though! I'll pick up Ash tomorrow around 6:30, if that's cool?"

I nodded. "I'll walk you to the door."

My parents looked at us in surprise, and our abrupt departure left a sour feeling behind.

I followed CC silently to the front door and let him out on the porch, closing the door behind us so we could talk in private. "Sorry about them," I apologized, beginning to ramble.

"It's no trouble." He laughed. "I meant everything I said, plus their reaction was priceless."

"Uh... Thanks for covering for me," I told him awkwardly, shifting on my feet. "You didn't have to."

"Covering for you?" he wondered in confusion, cocking his head. "Lucky for you, we actually do have a show scheduled for tomorrow night. So yeah, you're playing with us. Better catch up on some piano playing."

I laughed and shook my head. "It's nice to see you again." I smiled, pulling him into a quick hug. "Have a nice evening."

He smiled back as he jogged down the porch steps, turning halfway towards me to say, "You, too. See you tomorrow night."

I watched him head towards his car, parked along the curb across the street, and drive away. I sighed in relief, but still felt the clouds of stress and anxiety eating away at my mind. I went back inside to salvage what was left of dinner and my evening, before going to bed early, drifting off, imagining how tomorrow's surprise show would go.


	25. Changes.

I feel like I talk too much about my day and am just plain repetitive, don't you think? Anyway, the next morning I went straight work writing up the sheet music for a few more tracks from the Black Veil Brides album, unsure which ones they had in mind.

After that was done, I went on a walk. I couldn't go far from the house, though, that was a part of the whole 'grounded' thing. After that, I took another shower, freshened up, and by that time, it was almost two in the afternoon, so I began to pick out my outfit for that evening.

That's when my mom came home and found me in my room, comparing pairs of jeans.

"Hey, Sweetie," she greeted me, and I smiled at her, but became concerned when her returning smile was strained.

"What's up?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing... Find something to wear tonight?"

I pursed my lips as I moved aside the black sweater I had, and tried the grey tank top with the leather skinnies I had laid out on the end of my bed. Finally, I shook my head and sighed. "What the hell do you even wear to a concert?"

My mom was big on music in her teenage years, and had seen all the famous hair bands in concert. She understood this question well.

"Most concert goers wear shirts to support the artist they're seeing, but if you're performing, wear something you feel comfortable in. It doesn't have to match what the rest of the band has, because I've seen their wardrobe, and it's not exactly rainbows and butterflies like yours is," she joked, walking into my room to stand beside me and admire the options I had laid out so far.

"Looks like to me it's time for a bonding trip to the mall," she suggested with a slow nod.

"What?" I laughed.

"Hot Topic?"

"Seriously?" I cocked an eyebrow, but she was laughing.

"Hell yeah. Come on, we'll get you something that'll put them all on their asses. A new band shirt?" she suggested as I grabbed my black ballet flats and slipped them on before grabbing my jacket and following her downstairs.

"Sure," I agreed, still smiling and laughing, because my mom was usually pretty outright about a lot of things, but she never suggested shopping on the dime. And most importantly, she never suggested Hot Topic as our shopping location. Mostly because she 'didn't like looking at all the sad emos left over from MCR's breakup hanging out there, still listening to early Fall Out Boy, wearing beanies, with dark makeup and clothes, looking like some emo parade rejects'.

"What brought this all on?" I wondered as I pulled my seatbelt across and locked it into place while she looked over her shoulder to back out.

"I dunno... I guess with school and all that jazz, we just never get some mother/daughter bonding time. And since you no longer want to get your hair done, I don't have that." She shot me a joking scolding look before laughing. "Anyway, I don't have any dresses to work on until Saturday. So you're stuck with me."

The lonely Hot Topic store sat in the busier side of town – the part I almost never visited, because it deviated from the small town vibe I enjoyed so much about the side of Pendant I lived in. But there were two sides to the river that divided the town, and we lived on the 'unsocial' side. The other side had department stores like Home Depot, Walmart and Target. So really, Pendant wasn't all that small. The part I actually lived in, though, was.

She turned on the radio as we drove, and I appreciated the sound of music again for the short amount of time I had. Once we parked, I climbed out and stared up at the store in a few minutes of awe. I'd only ever been here a handful of times, but every time was a wonder.

"All right, let's go."

I followed my mom in, and instantly my attention went elsewhere.

There were banners for different bands hanging from the ceiling, rack after rack of band shirts and trinkets. A huge section of the store was just rows of CD's, vinyls and concert movies. The other half was consumed in a wide variety of different forms of band merch.

Every time I came here, it never failed to make me happy and excited. I separated from my mom to go look at band shirts. Name a band and they had a shirt for it. I noticed a distressed My Chemical Romance shirt, a colorful Panic! At the Disco tank top, and a few others. It was hard to look at them all because there were so many.

"Oh... Ash."

"What?" I looked at my mom in confusion, and she was beaming, smiling up at something.

"How big is that band you're playing with?"

"Huh?"

"How popular are they?"

"I dunno... They only play Pendant as far as I know." I shrugged.

"I think they're a bit bigger than that."

She pointed above my head, and I turned, my eyes scaling the massive rack of shirts, and at the top, was a banner from their album, We Stitch These Wounds.

"What?" I whispered in surprise. "Mr. Turner only mentioned that they had the untitled EP. They actually released it?"

"Coming 2010..." my mom read in deep thought. "Five years ago?"

I smiled in awe, looking up at the band, all different members, except for Andy, who fronted them, wigged out in massive amounts of Kiss style makeup and studded belts. The banner was just one of those 'blast from the past' things they kept hanging around the store, but it still shocked me, and made me feel the swelling wave of pride looking at it.

"Wow..." I breathed, a grin slowly appearing on my face. I could rest easy knowing that, in a way, Andy had completed his dream of starting a band and getting it somewhere.

I hadn't realized that I'd spaced out until my mom was nudging me. "Hey, did you find something yet?"

"Uh..." I quickly tore my eyes from the banner and scanned the shirt rack, grabbing the first shirt my hand touched.

"Guns and Roses?" my mom commented skeptically with a half-smile. "I thought you didn't like them?”

"Huh..." I chuckled nervously. "Music tastes change."

We looked around a little longer, but no matter where I was in the store, my gaze continued to go back to that poster.

"Well, we'd better be getting back if you're planning on being ready by the time Christian shows up," my mom said after another half hour in the store, checking the time on her phone.

I nodded and followed her to the register to check out.

Something just bothered me after that encounter. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it was in the back of my mind, just sitting there, ticking away like a bomb about to go off.

My mom even asked a few times what was up, but I didn't have an answer for her, so I wrote it off as just being nervous. She offered, with a bit much enthusiasm I might add, that I could always cancel if I didn't feel up to it. But I had already sold the story, and was actually excited to go and see them all again, so I persisted, telling her I was fine.

When we got home, I went to my room and changed into my new shirt, which was just a black, distressed tee with the Guns and Roses logo on the front. I added the pair of black skinnies I bought as well. My old pair were really more of a dark grey, and I felt like I needed to look the part to play with them.

I was just finishing up my makeup when my mom called up the stairs, "Ash! Christian is here. Want me to send him up?"

Her voice was wary, and hopeful that I'd decline, but I wanted the chance to talk to him before we left.

"Sure!" I shouted back, and a few moments later, CC was pushing open my bedroom door with the same hesitant alertness about him as he had the first time.

"Almost ready?" he hedged, his hands buried in his pockets. I nodded and capped my eyeliner pencil, looking down at the mess of necklaces, bracelets and assorted pieces of makeup scattered across my vanity.

"As I'll ever be."

"They'll love you," he said. "You're amazing at playing piano."

I just shook my head slowly, furrowing my brow in thought. "It's not that."

"What is it?" He became confused, perched on the end of my bed, looking at my back. I looked up into my mirror, at my reflection, searching for answers in my eyes.

"You never said your band actually released an album," I said conversationally, shrugging.

"I didn't know I was supposed to?" He said it like a question. "Anyway, yes, and we went on tour, too. That was Andy's last year in school. We took off during spring break, skipped the rest of the semester, and toured all summer in my cousin's stinky cargo van."

I imagined them playing small club shows, having to work odds and ends to get Andy in because he was the youngest, and not yet 18.

"Also, all the music that was on that album is the same stuff on the EP. Just more refined. We had some guy at Andy's school mix it for us, and he made it sound like it was more than just a crappy phone recording." CC laughed fondly at the memory.

"Dammit, you distracted me... What's wrong?"

I pursed my lips to keep from grinning at him, looking back at him in the mirror's reflection. "We're gonna be late," I reminded him, and he hurried to pat down his coat pockets until he pulled out his phone to check the time.

"Shit," he cursed. "Finish your...girly stuff, and meet me downstairs."

"May I remind you, your whole band wears makeup!?" I shouted after him as he darted out the door into the hall. Not to anyone's surprise, he did not reply. I chuckled and grabbed my bag and leather jacket, and headed downstairs, concentrating on remaining calm.


	26. Creep.

I couldn't have a normal conversation with CC the whole drive because of how loud he played his music. He told me before we'd even left my house that he'd rather be deaf at a young age than to grow old with perfect hearing, knowing he hadn't fully enjoyed music in his youthful days. I pondered his comment and wondered if he understood exactly what that meant.

We arrived at the venue within a few minutes, and I could already feel my stomach twisting into small, anxious knots. There was a line of excited concert-goers standing outside the café where we'd be playing, either talking to each other or looking down at their phones, texting.

"We'll get in through the back. If we try to go through that, we'll never make it," CC joked, pulling into the narrow alleyway that led into a small parking area behind the shop.

"Hey, bro."

I looked out CC's window, where he'd already gotten out and was bumping fists with Jake. "I brought Ash. I texted you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, we got a hold of a piano for her to play," Jake replied coolly, leaning against the car until Jinxx and their new singer and bassist came out.

"Dude, they're already starting to riot out there," Jinxx told us with enthusiasm.

I looked at the other two, middle-aged men who were clearly over ten years older than the rest of them.

"Oh, I don't think we've been introduced yet." One of them noticed me getting out of the car. He had short bronze hair with shots of artificial grey through it, and a friendly, open smile. He wore rimless glasses. I approached him hesitantly and reached out to grip his extended hand.

"Ash," I told him warily, taking in his features. There was just something off about him. Maybe he was too friendly.

He grinned. "Carl Ferguson."

"How long have you guys known each other?" I asked conversationally, taking a noticeable step back from him to look at the other man, who had shoulder length blonde hair and looked like a modern day Kurt Cobain – mismatched articles of clothing, lit cigarette and all.

"About eight months," Jake told me when no one else answered. "We were taking a hiatus from the band after Andy moved and Ashley passed. But it got to the point where we just had to play music again, we didn't care who it was with. That's when we came across these 80's reject pedophiles." Jake laughed, gesturing towards the two. "Oh, yeah, that's Millard. He doesn't talk much."

I looked back at 'Millard' but as far as I was concerned, I'd be calling him Kurt.

He nodded in my direction, and proceeded to lift his cigarette to his mouth to take in a long drawl.

It made me uncomfortable to be around them. Even though Jake was only joking about his statement on the two, it felt pretty realistic. I stood next to CC while he told everyone jokes to get them in a good mood before going on to play the first set. I noticed the long glances Carl sent my way, his eyes set intently on my face for long periods of time, yet I was the only one who noticed. No one else saw his creepy gaze or told him to knock it off, and I was too freaked out to do it myself, so I decided just to play it cool.

"Hey, it's almost show time," Jinxx announced a few minutes later. "I'm gonna do a last minute gear check."

He abandoned our group, and Jake soon followed. CC nudged me and nodded towards the back door of the café. "You might want to get acquainted with the piano first. It's a keyboard, not an upright."

I nodded, not as concerned with familiarizing myself with the keyboard as I was getting out from under Carl's gaze and out of Millard's smoke cloud, which smelled like something other than cigarettes.

I hurried to the back door, following the chorus of laughter through the small maze of halls in the back rooms to the front room, where I emerged through the curtains onto a small entertainment stage. I stood there looking over the small room, no bigger than your average club, yet the thought of so many people being packed in here was giving me a major wave of anxiety. I remembered to take deep breaths, and turned away to go take a look at the piano.

When Jake said they got a hold of a piano, he wasn't kidding. The thing looked like they'd drug it out of the city dump. Nevertheless, I hit the power button and tapped a few of the keys, and it sounded fine.

I scooched out the bench and sat there, acquainting myself with the keys. Since it was a smaller model, there were less. In the background I could hear Jake shredding off random riffs on his guitar, and Jinxx doing the same on his. Soon their riffs evolved into the same piece of music. I looked over my shoulder to watch them face off in a guitar solo duel.

"Stop messing around," a gruff voice came, and I looked behind us at the opening of the curtains, where Carl stood nursing a cold beer in one hand, a flask in the other, and an annoyed look on his face. "Are we playing or not?"

Jake's eyes flashed in annoyance, but he didn't reply. He set his guitar on the stand on his side of the stage, and went to go find the show's adviser to open the doors. I checked the time. It was almost seven.

"I thought you guys had a band opening for you?" I wondered in confusion.

"We did. They quit. All of them had food poisoning, so now we have to play a longer show. Hope you're ready, hun," Carl said, shaking his head, standing in front of his mic sipping his alcohol. I could already tell his mood was declining and he was becoming less of that convenience store clerk persona he'd been outside just moments earlier, and was becoming a grumpy drunk with a short temper.

The suggestive smile he sent me afterwards made my stomach twist, and I abruptly dropped my gaze, pretending I hadn't seen it.

"Okay, they're letting people in!" Jake shouted to us, appearing on the far end of the small room. He stalked towards us, his leather boots clicking against the scuffed wood floor.

"What's the set list?" CC asked, stepping on stage in a different get up than he had when he picked me up from my house. I appreciated that he had chosen not to wear makeup in front of my mom.

"Yeah, we should review," Jinxx commented, grabbing the sheet of paper off a gear crate and setting it on the sheet music stand so we could all read it.

"We'll open with Knives and Pens. Put some enthusiasm into the opening, Carl," Jake told him, giving him a joking look that was also authoritative. Carl just scoffed.

"Then Perfect Weapon and Sweet Blasphemy. And All Your Hate after those... What next?"

"We should probably save The Mortician's Daughter for last, or second to last... Should we close with Carolyn?"

I stood back, out of my league with this music talk. I was familiar with the songs and their sound/strength, but I was just a backup musician here.

"I think Never Give In should be next," Carl blurted out, crossing his arms with finalism.

"Why not-"

"No." His mustache topped lip twitched in annoyance, as he peered at the other band members through his thick glasses. I looked at him and wondered how the actual hell he ended up with them. He didn't even dress like them, or even wear the stage makeup. He wore a crisp, yellow polo and plain jeans, acting like he was a waiter at Burger King or something. Yet, he wanted to be in control of everything, but wouldn't give his all to the project.

I heard Jinxx sigh in annoyance, and Millard was too spaced out to notice the heated argument taking place. His eyes were glassy, and every now and again he'd start giggling from some drug infused hallucination he was having.

I crossed my arms and stepped back from the group. I had a good enough idea what we were playing, and I'd find my way through it if I had to.

I looked to my left, out at the room in front of the stage, where teenagers and adults alike were filing in. Some of them were screaming the guys' names with great affection. I noticed Carl's annoyance grow when no one shouted his name, because to all those screaming teenagers, he was just the middle-aged senior citizen on stage with the cute guys.

Girls threw themselves up against the low barrier that was the edge of the stage. They reached for us, and I backed up to stand in the shadow of an amp. Some of them held out various articles for them to sign.

Jake gave in and signed a few things. CC talked to them, trying to calm down the ones who were overly excited, and Carl was already at the front of the stage, waving at them, calling the fourteen year-old girls in the crowd 'hunny' or 'cutie'. Some of them got confused or weirded out, and disappeared into the crowd.

The security came out then, and told people to back up a considerable amount while they helped the massive group of people through the doors.

My breath was hitching in my throat, and I kept having to remind myself to breathe, and a jagged breath would finally be drawn.

"Okay..." I whispered to myself, watching the others parading the stage with their instruments, raising their fists in the air triumphantly while the crowd screamed and chanted back at them. It was an amazing experience, one I might've been able to appreciate more if Carl's creepy, pedophile grins and gazes would stay off of me.

I lurked in the shadows a while longer before emerging and going to sit at the keyboard, keeping my eyes down. I could feel the tension change noticeably as the crowd watched me in the background curiously.

I wished in that moment Jake had been the vocalist, because with Carl making the announcements, the evening was bound to be a disaster.

"We're Black Veil Brides!" he shrieked into the microphone, pushing his glassed further up on the bridge of his nose. "We have a special guest tonight. Please help me give Ash a warm welcome!" He pointed at me, and I froze. Then... He gestured for a spotlight to be trained on me.

"Ain't she somethin'?" Carl commented with a smirk, before turning towards the crowd. I looked over at CC sitting behind his drums. He looked at me, and sent me an 'are you okay' look. I nodded and looked down at the keys, and positioned my hands.

The crowd was cheering, and pushing towards the stage.

"Shut the hell up, motherfuckers." Carl sneered for effect. "This one is called Knives and Pens."

The crowd roared, and the small café vibrated with movement and emotion. I placed my hands on the keys and played the intro along with the guitar. It wasn't what I was supposed to do, but I needed to get my mind off of things.

I took deep breaths and just kept looking down, playing along to the song until it came to an end. Carl grabbed a water bottle and splashed it over the front row of the crowd. If he'd been a better looking man, the girls would've been swooning. But since Carl was just about as amazing in the looks department as Walter White, the girls growled at him in annoyance, and some shrieked at him for ruining their hair or shirt. I noticed he paid special attention to drenching the girls that were wearing white.

I watched him in disgust, continuing to parade around. "Y'know, I'm a helluva looker, am I right, ladies?" He held his arms out in all his glory, and the crowd only cheered because the band was at an interlude, and they were obligated to be excited with everything they did.

"Think I'm good looking? Naw, look at Ash. Spotlights!"

They hovered on me again, and I glared at the keys as I played, not entertaining his stupid fantasy.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me..." I growled.

"Do it one fucking more time," I shouted at him through my mic, and he laughed, thinking I was joking. Then his smile faded, and he moved into the next verse. I shook my head and continued to play, looking over at Jinxx, who stood just to my left on the cramped stage. He nodded towards me, grinning.

I sighed. What had been, and could have been, one of the greatest nights of my life was destroyed by a fucking gross pedophile.

Jake signalled an end of our set, and we got off the stage to take a break. In the meantime, a comedian the café had hired took our place on the stage.

"I have to piss!" CC shouted, charging past me down the hall to the men's room.

I laughed and turned around, noticing Millard leaning again the wall down the hall, looking like he was dealing with some God awful hangover. His performance showed it, because he hardly strummed a chord the whole time. He just strummed every now and again.

Jake and Jinxx headed out back to smoke. "You coming?" Jake asked me, extending a cigarette in my direction. I shook my head.

"I'm good."

He chuckled, and they both walked out.

Heaving a sigh, I went to find a bottle of water. At least, one that Carl hadn't thrown into the audience yet. I stood in the break-room when, speak of the devil, I heard someone behind me, chuckling.

"That was one helluva thing you did out there," he said, grinning, walking up to stand beside me. He placed his hands on the counter, looking intent. Or drunk, at least.

"What?"

"Tellin' me to shut up and all that crap... Thinkin' you're some hot shit just 'cuz you're playing with some band." He shook his head, smiling. Then everything changed.

He turned, on the dime, and his hand lashed out. I fell backwards, too stunned to react properly, to shout for help while I had the chance.

"Stupid bitch..." He chuckled, shaking his head, looking down at me. "Time for a lesson, 'cuz you've been a bad girl."

"Stay the hell away from me!" I pushed my back up against the wall and kicked at his legs, tripping him. He crashed down on the tile floor in front of me, his glasses bouncing off. I grabbed them, and threw them across the floor. He'd have a hell of a harder time defending himself if he couldn't see.

"Stop struggling!" He growled, pinning my legs down, pressing his hand over my mouth, his eyes wide and angry, all the friendliness gone.

My eyes were wide and terrified. His other hand slid around my throat, his thumb pressing against my Adam's apple, until my breaths were just wispy little gusts. His eyes were wild and frantic with some psychotic joy as he squeezed harder, gritting his teeth as he did so.

It reminded me of when I'd gone to the dentist’s office as a child. Of course, like any kid, I didn't like brushing my teeth, so I got cavities and had to have fillings. I was terrified of the process, so the nurse had to put me into a calm state with some gas. It made me loopy and light-headed; my body felt like it was made of lead. And I thought I was seeing things that weren't there, sometimes...

As the blackness began to infringe on my vision and my lungs begged for air, I saw the blurry black outline behind Carl. I heard his throaty growling in my ears, and saw him grab Carl and throw him off.

The figure came closer and crouched directly in front of me. I had to concentrate very hard to understand him through the ringing in my ears.

"Breath. Come on, Ash. In, come on, in."

I took my first agonized breath and started coughing. I couldn't catch my breath again. I was shaking terribly, and everything felt like it was shrinking. "Just like before, look at me."

I looked at his face. His beautiful, crystal blue eyes, and his gentle smile. Just like before, I noticed every detail of his face. The lip and nose ring he had; the weird, dark makeup he wore and that black strip of war paint he had brushed across his left cheek.

His calm voice kept instructing me, guiding me through the process of recovering, and preventing an incoming panic attack.

"Ah... Andy," I croaked, my hands frantically moving from my sides, reaching for the air, trying to touch his face.

He smirked. "Hey."

My lungs filled with air, and this time I did not cough or shake. My body was slowly relaxing, the room around us shifting back to normal.

"Close your eyes," he ordered.

"Why?"

"Please."

I slowly closed my eyes, and waited for him to say something else, and when he didn't I opened my eyes, the ringing sound fading from my ears. I could hear someone's frantic voice. But what worried me was that the voice wasn't Andy's.

CC was crouched in front of me, anxious and hectic.

"Ash! Holy crap, are you okay?!"

I nodded, my hands beginning to quiver again. "Ye-Yes," I whispered, my hands shaking. I clutched them together tightly.

"Oh God..." His hand trailed along under my jaw, inspecting the damage. "You've got one hell of a bruise. Ash, I have to call 911."

"No, CC, no!"

"I have to." He wasn't joking around. He placed a hand against my collarbone, keeping me in place while he pulled out his phone and dialled the number.

"My parents can't know about any of this!" I wailed in panic, frightened tears building in my eyes. I couldn't quite define what was real and what was not. Andy had been here, or he hadn't. My parents might be mad at me for something out of my control, or they might support me. I couldn't get my mind to focus.

"Christian, please!"

"I need an ambulance at the Fair View Café on Main Street..." He glanced at me in concern. "Sexual assault and attacking."

My lip was quivering. I felt betrayed, even though he was doing what he had to. He hung up, and shouted for Jinxx and Jake, and a few moment later they walked in, oblivious to what had gone down until they noticed Carl passed out cold on the tile beside me, a nasty bruise forming on his forehead.

"You- You did that?" I whispered. CC looked over, and confusion was in his eyes. "No. No... I just found you like this. Maybe you did it before you went under?"

"Maybe." I remembered flashes, of my arms flailing, reaching to claw at his face as he choked me. My whole body shook, and tears were in my eyes. I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

"Hey, you're okay." CC slipped right into his brotherly role and wrapped his tattooed arms around me tightly. Jake and Jinxx were anxiously asking what they could get me, while I broke down right then and there.

"Go inform the management, and tell the crowd we have to cut the set. I don't know what else to do," CC replied with a shrug. A moment later they were both gone. And after they left, the EMT's were making their way into the small break room with a stretcher, a few of them inspecting Carl while another one shined a flashlight into my eyes and asked me different questions. The whole thing just blurred for me, because my mind was elsewhere.

I closed my eyes, and I could see his. His brilliant, blue irises. His happy smile, and his cold hugs. Then another EMT told me I had to keep my eyes open, and loaded me onto a stretcher, placing a neck brace on me because of the excessive bruising. They couldn't be sure how much damage had been done.

I felt the burn of anger and sadness inside of me, followed by something much stronger. It saddened me when I realized what it was...

Andy was the only one who could keep me calm and drag me through things like this. All it took was a glance into his eyes, and I felt everything was okay. My body knew it, too – craved his presence like a drug. So much so, that in my darkest moment, my mind conjured up his doppelgänger just to get me through it.


	27. Shaken.

I zoned out a lot on the drive to the hospital, but no matter how dazed I became, I was forever aware of the kind nurse's warm hand in mine. She sat on the bench beside my stretcher, and just watched me lie there. Her gaze was sympathetic and understanding.

"What?" I finally croaked, my voice barely above a broken whisper. They'd already warned me not to speak because it would strain my vocal chords, and they didn't know how much damage was done yet.

She shook her head a little bit, a strand of brownish-blonde hair falling from her bun. "I understand what you're going through, hun."

I winced at her use of the name, because less than a half hour ago the perverted piece of shit on the stretcher next to me had called me that same name.

"How so?" I wondered anyway, hoping her voice and words could distract me from my own troubling thoughts.

"I had the same... Attack. It was a few years ago, only a lot more physical damage was done," she told me softly without going into detail. I noticed how she didn't come straight out and say hers had been much worse, because that would only plant the seed of doubt in my mind. Instead, she stated it as though I had gotten off a little easier.

I could tell she didn't want to go into detail, and with my own fresh memories swirling around in my head like water going down a drain, I didn't want her to.

"It was awful," she continued, "but I did find a way through it. That's when I realized I wanted to be nurse. I wanted to help people."

"And you're helping me," I whispered to her, trying to sound reassuring. But my voice was barely above a cracked whimper.

She smirked a little in amusement. "You're not supposed to be talking."

I smiled a little and sighed, looking up at the ceiling of the ambulance cabin. There was an assortment of equipment, lights and buttons, and things I didn't even have names for.

I let my mind wander, and when it did I cringed, remembering that the son of a bitch was right there beside me. Against my wishes, he was still breathing. Of all the torture, I had to lie right next to him, listen to his breathing, all calm and smooth sailing while I was struggling to keep from making a whistle noise when I inhaled.

My jaw shifted and clenched, and I glared at the ceiling. The nurse sighed a little. "I know... You're on edge, and probably pretty pissed. If I wasn't a professional, and by contract not allowed to kill people I don't like, I would've killed him myself by now," she joked, nodding towards him.

My lip twitched in acknowledgement.

"Your friends said they'd be in the waiting room when we get there," she told me in reassurance. "We couldn't contact your family, though. You didn't have a license on you for identification."

"Didn't CC tell you?"

"CC?" she echoed in confusion. "Oh, those boys? No, they were sent out of the venue while we worked. One of them did tell us they'd be here soon, though."

I nodded, just a fraction shift of my chin, because the neck-brace prevented me from doing much else.

"They're all in that band, right? Black Veil Brides? You can just give me a thumbs up for yes, thumbs down for no," she suggested, still trying to actually keep me from talking or moving. I lifted my hand and gave her a feeble thumbs up.

"They lost their old singer not too long ago, huh?"

Another thumbs up. She sighed sympathetically and pursed her lips. "It's really a shame. Andy was a good kid. I actually knew him before he moved to California. We didn't know each other well, just well enough."

I wondered what she meant by that, but I didn't want to risk being scolded for asking. I rested my hand beside me again while she started talking conversationally about some of the things she has to do as a nurse. I paid attention to her every word, because it kept me distracted.

The ambulance stopped, a nice long ride, because the hospital is halfway across Pendant, and even with sirens blaring, and driving full speed, it still took ten minutes.

"Stay still," she suggested, standing up as the back doors of the ambulance opened. I looked up at her and noticed her name tag, clipped to the front of her nurse's scrubs.

Amily.

So... Like Amy and Emily together?

The other EMT's began to unload us both, pulling me out first to rush me into urgent care.

The bright fluorescent lights blinded me as they wheeled me down the halls, and like a maze, I lost track of the turns. My eyelids fluttered and my lungs ached. My throat was sore, and this was without a doubt the worst pain I'd ever felt. Every breath just hurt.

The bright light caused specks to appear in my vision. Shifting sparkles of dust that could easily be misinterpreted into a set of glowing blue irises.

I hadn't realized I was smiling, just barely, until I became more aware of my surroundings. I knew I had been told to keep my eyes open, but I just didn't feel like fighting so much. I wanted to sleep it off, wake up in my bedroom, and this whole nightmarish evening could be behind me.

I closed my eyes and was out like a light before anyone could stop me.

~~~

"Sweetie... Oh, Ash."

"How is she doing?"

"Same."

"Want me to bring in Christian and the others? They've been dying to see her."

"I'd like to know what the hell happened first."

"I know... There are no words to really describe this pain. But at least they stopped him."

"They are the reason this happened."

My eyes slowly adjusted to the unbelievably bright room.

"Mom?" I croaked.

"Ash!" she exclaimed, leaping to my side. "You passed out, sweetie," she told me soothingly, smoothing my hair in straight waves down the front of my hospital gown.

"Is it bad?" I croaked after a few awkward, quiet moments. My mom shook her head stiffly, unshed tears lingering in her anxious brown eyes. My dad placed his hands on her shoulders, and squeezed in reassurance.

"It wasn't as bad as the doctors originally thought, thank God. They don't think you'll need vocal practice in recovery."

I nodded stiffly, relieved that at least my voice hadn't been effected. I could still smell it on me, though... Just barely, the scent of Carl's vodka and whiskey. I winced, and shook my head slightly.

"How long do I have to stay here?" I whispered, trying not to strain my voice right away.

"Just a day, at the most," my dad told me, a small, hesitant smile on his face. "They just wanted to keep an eye on the bruising and your breathing. Then you're set to go home."

I nodded a little bit, and looked down. "Where's CC? Is he here? Are Jake and Jinxx?"

They gave me a confused look. "CC?" they wondered like the nurse, Amily, had before.

"Christian," I corrected. "Are they here?"

"Yeah... In the waiting room. Do you want to see them?"

"Please?"

My mom looked up at my dad and nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before he left the room to go get them. My mom smiled at me. "You had me so worried," she whispered. "I don't think I ever tell you enough... Just how much I love you."

Her lower lip quivered, even frozen in a small smile. Mine became identical, and I extended my arms at my sides to ask for a hug, since I couldn't sit up yet. She leaned over me and gave me a small squeeze.

"You will never understand a mother's unconditional love... Until you are one. It's not something that can be explained, and the love can never be expressed fully. It just gets bottled up inside. But just know, it's always there."

She buried her face in my shoulder, and I hugged her back tightly. "I love you, too, Mom," I whispered sincerely. Squeezing my eyes shut to force back the tears.

When she pulled away, she was laughing. Her own tears had finally spilled. "We are such a mess." She smiled, wiping under her eyes with the heels of her palms.

I smiled at her in agreement.

"Look who's up."

I looked over to the doorway, where CC, Jake and Jinxx stood with my father. CC grinned at me and stepped into the room.

"I'll give you guys a chance to talk," my mom said with a fading smile as she got up to leave. CC came to take her spot beside me, his smile faltering and becoming sympathetic.

"I'm really sorry... That's the lamest apology I could possibly give, but I mean it."

"I appreciate it,” I replied in my low, scratchy voice.

"I actually had something I wanted to tell you... Kinda unrelated, but I thought of it while I was in the waiting room."

My brow furrowed. "What's that?"

He sighed, looked up at the ceiling for a few moments while he chose his words carefully. "When Andy was in the band and we were on tour for We Stitch These Wounds, we were playing at this strip-mall in Denver. Anyways, Andy was always 'adventurous' while he performed."

I looked at him in confusion. He smirked in amusement and continued. "He climbed all over shit like a little kid. He'd be up on the amps and crap. Well, on this particular night there were these stone pillars around the stage area, and between them was the hallway around the stage. We were playing, and he climbed up on them, doing his thing. Then, he goes to jump off of it, onto the stage, misses the stage completely, and collides with the concrete wall around the stage. Shattered two ribs and dislocated one."

I stared at him in shock, wondering how the hell Andy had not told me about that one.

"After security made sure he was okay, he refused an ambulance and got back up on stage and kept singing, even though he had to sit on this stool the entire time. He didn't quit because he felt bad... Same applies to you, I think."

"What do you mean?" I looked at him warily.

"You've changed since the funeral. I've noticed it. But just think of it this way... Shit gets hard, but you've just got to keep on going, because if you don't, and you let yourself fall back into that bleak pit of doom, you'll never find yourself again."

I took a deep breath, looking down at my hands resting limply in my lap.

"I care for you, Ash, and I know Andy did, too. He wouldn't want to see you decline after this," he said sincerely. I looked up at his brown eyes, always hopeful and kind. He was a better friend than I deserved.

"Thank you, CC." I smiled a little bit. He smiled back and leaned over to give me a hug. "The others want to see you, too. I'll go get them."

He got up and went to the door to call in Jinxx and Jake. They came in, in awkward shuffles and said their piece. But Jake's first words were brooding.

"I'm damn sorry about all of this, Asheen. We knew how Carl was, and we were keeping an eye on him. But he still found his fucking way in..." A deep growl of anger resonated from his chest. "We hope you'll find comfort in knowing he's fired. So is Millard. And he'll be spending a nice amount of time behind bars for the damage he did."

Jinxx and CC both nodded in agreement with Jake's statement.

"Thank you all so much. I feel like I'm getting repetitive with my word choices, but I can't think of any other way to express it. You've all been so amazing to me."

"CC told us what happened, with Andy," Jinxx spoke up, and I froze. His gaze wasn't cold or analyzing. He believed me, and from Jake's expression, he did, too. "It's bizarre as hell to hear, and hard to swallow... But if everything you say is true, then you're a friend of ours, and we're gonna care for you in Andy's absence, because guess what, Emo Bitch Queen?" Jinxx sent me a half smile, and I grinned at his use of my nickname. "You're a part of our pack now. We take care of our own. Welcome to the BVB Army."


	28. Hazard.

The night spent in the hospital was eventless. I tossed and turned in my sleep and woke up twice with nightmares, once with shaking. After I'd finally calmed down enough to go to sleep, I was too awake to try, so I spent most of the night just lying there in the absolute still, suffocating silence, listening to the low murmur of nurses outside my door.

When morning finally came, the doctor visited before my parents showed up. A nurse brought in a tray of food while the doctor made his rounds and asked me questions, checking things off on his clip board.

"Your voice sounds better today," he noted. "Be careful not to strain it for another week."

I nodded solemnly, picking apart the piece of toast on the tray to a pile of crumbs. I was anxious to get out of there and go home, to my own nice, safe room. Where there were no nosy people slipping in and out of your room all night.

"Let's check the bruises."

He undid the ties on the neck-brace and carefully removed it with the nurse's help. He pressed around my neck, searching for swelling or abnormal lumps, and then he gave me a phrase to speak.

"Yeah, the raspiness will pass within a few days. I'd advise you to stick to drinking tea with honey until it does," he said. "I think you'll be fine without that for now." He jabbed his pen in the direction of the dreaded neck-brace, before looking down to write more notes on his sacred chart.

"Visiting hours begin at nine. If you'd like to take a moment to clean up before your family and friends arrive, I'd advise you do it now. I'll send in Nurse Amily to help you."

I was going to shoot down his offer, but I kinda wanted the chance to talk to Amily again. I was curious of her, and that could prove to be a very dangerous thing.

"Sure," I agreed.

After he left, I sat there picking slowly through my food, not feeling all that motivated to eat, because I had butterflies in my stomach.

I waited a few minutes, and then there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I called as loud as I could manage. The door clicked open, and Amily stepped in with a soft smile, carrying a soft towel and a few other toiletries like shampoo and soap.

"Oh, I can handle my own shower," I told her, slowly throwing my legs over the side of the bed and sitting on the edge, looking at her expectantly.

She looked back in confusion, and set the bundle down on the desk under the small flat-screen TV that was mounted on the wall.

"Then why did Doctor Flakmann tell me you needed me?"

"I actually wanted to talk to you," I told her, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

"Okay... Mind if I ask what it's about?"

"It's kinda personal..." I floundered, feeling awkward because I was being nosy.

"Shoot," she told me. She crossed the room, going to the window to grip the thick curtains in both hands, and yanking them open. A brilliant beam of early morning sunshine flooded the small room, making it feel less confined.

"Okay... Yesterday, you said you knew Andy Biersack?"

"In a way," she replied nonchalantly, examining the bloom of an orchid in the vase by the window.

"How so?"

She turned to smirk at me in amusement, her hands on her hips. "That would be a violation of my contract to tell you."

"Huh?"

She laughed. "He was a patient here. That's when I met him."

"During his suicide attempt..." I guessed immediately, not even really speaking to her, but to myself.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You know about that?"

I nodded. "He, ah... He told me about it once. Said once for cutting, another time for drug overdose."

She pursed her lips and nodded. I could tell she was being careful with what she said, because even though he was dead now, she couldn't disclose information about previous patients to ones that weren't even family.

"What was he like?" I found myself asking, and she looked surprised.

"I thought you knew him?" she asked in confusion, and I caught myself.

"Oh, I did. I just meant, like, when he was here."

"I can't tell you that." She chuckled as she began to clean up around the room. "But I guess I probably got the same Andy that you did. He was kind, and funny, and sarcastic. Always had something to say."

She smiled as she spoke. She spoke of him fondly, and I could see it in her eyes.

"Were you close?"

Her eyebrows pulled together in thought. "No, not really. I never really saw him or talked to him. I just came in to check his machines from time to time, and he'd just ramble about different things. He wasn't upset that he was in a hospital or why he was. It was almost like he didn't understand... Like talking to a kid."

I understood that. Andy never seemed to fully grasp his death, either. He joked around about it a lot, even though it was ultimately a death sentence, and there would be no return. He always had a smile, and rarely had anything negative to say about his situation.

"Yeah... He was like that," I replied absently, smiling slightly.

"What made you so curious?" Amily wondered curiously, an amused smile on her lips as she rearranged the items on my nightstand. I shrugged a little.

"Most people hated him. Finding people who knew who he was, and how amazing he actually was, just... Interests me, I guess."

She chuckled, but changed the subject. "Your family should be here soon. You might want to squeeze that shower in." She nodded towards the bathroom. I nodded in agreement, and hopped down from the bed, grabbing the towel ,shampoo and the neat pile beside it, which was yesterday's clothes set, freshly washed and folded.

I got the hot water started, and avoided my reflection as I went. Not only did I not feel like seeing my own face right now, but I didn't want to see the hideous marks on my neck. I groaned when I remembered I had to return to school on Monday... As if I didn't have enough things to dread when I returned, without the bully attacks that were coming.

After I'd gotten out of the shower, I could hear my parents talking in the room. I sighed, combed through my dripping hair with my fingers a few times before unlocking the bathroom door and stepping out.

My parents both smiled at me, but remained slightly on edge.

"What's wrong?" I croaked.

"Nothing," my mom replied. "Christian just insisted on tagging along..."

I looked at them in confusion, waiting for them to elaborate.

"He was at our house at six this morning..." Dad groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. "All chipper and upbeat. His first words were 'ready to carpool?'"

I giggled. I could see CC doing something like that.

"Apparently his car is in the shop right now, so he was all too prepared to come with us. He's in the waiting room."

I laughed as much as I could manage and nodded. "Can we get out of here now?"

"We still have the meeting with the doctor. But you could probably go down and see Christian in the meantime."

I nodded and headed out the door, following the signs and asking occasionally for directions until I ended up in the wide waiting room, where a flat-screen was rumbling Frozen at a low volume for a few occupied children.

I spotted CC right away. He sat under the big front windows, his black mop of hair illuminated by the bright sunlight behind him. His frame bent over a small, beat up Nokia flip phone.

"Time to upgrade, isn't it?”

CC looked up in surprise, then chuckled. "Oh, this? Yeah, probably. But the difference between this and an iPhone is this is built like a tank. iPhones are built like towers of toothpicks, just waiting to be broken. My lifestyle and living habits would have it destroyed on the first day. Plus, this one has a cheaper bill."

He waved at me with his pathetic little Nokia, looking very proud of himself for owning an out-dated electronic.

I chuckled and sat down in the hard chair beside him.

"My dad told me about this morning. You showed up at my house? What a damn stalker." I laughed.

He smirked and poked my arm. "You sound like shit," he fired back.

I slapped his arm. "Shut it."

He laughed. "If you were to sing right now, you would sound just like Andy. That's how raspy and deep your voice is."

"That's an insult?" I scoffed.

He smirked. "I try."

"I know you do," I replied in my crackly voice, "which is why I finished filing your paperwork for a place in the mental hospital. I feel it'd just be a better living environment for you."

He narrowed his eyes at me with an amused smile, pretending to be offended. "Why, thank you! Better file for two cells, because you're just as messed up as me." He ruffled my hair, and strands of emerald fell into my eyes. I pouted, but did not reply. Instead I sat there, thinking of something ingenious to say when he interrupted my thought pattern.

"Are your parents pissed with me?" he asked, but I could see concern in his eyes.

"No. Why?"

"They were really edgy the whole drive." He shrugged. "Whispered a bit on the way over."

"About what?"

He shrugged.

"Oh come on, CC. Of all the times you could've eavesdropped-"

He held his hands up in defence. "I really couldn't hear them. They had the radio turned up. I think that was their intention, to keep me from hearing them."

I glared in confusion at the floor tile of the living room, wondering what on earth that meant. My parents were rarely secretive. To me, at least... I guess that makes sense, since they don't know Christian well. But still, they never went above and beyond to prevent eavesdropping unless it was major.

CC nudged me, and I looked up at my parents approaching me with a tight smile. Something was wrong.

"Can we drive you anywhere, Christian?" my dad offered, pulling out his car keys.

"Uh, depends on where you're going," he hedged.

"Just home."

"That works. I can walk to my parents' house and hang out there."

He got up, and I did too. I understand the stress involved in this whole situation, but they were like this well before last night. This was something that had been at least two days in the making.

~~~

When we got home, CC gave me a hug and a quick good luck wish, before stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets and turning away to make his way up the street. I turned my attention back to my parents.

"What's up with you two? You've been acting really weird," I accused.

They looked at each other in surprise. "It's just stress, sweetie."

"About what? You've both been like this since Wednesday." I crossed my arms firmly, waiting for one of them to fess up.

"It's just been a tough week," my mom told me, nudging me forward. "Let's get you inside and settled in. The doctor wants you to take these..."

She started rattling off different medicine names, but their meaning was lost the second they met my ears. I spaced out and walked up to the front door, waiting for dad to unlock it. I stepped into the empty, dim foyer, and made my way up to my room to change into something more comfortable.

I turned on some music in the background to distract me. There had been something I'd been thinking about lately, and with only today and tomorrow to work on it, I decided I'd get started.

But before I did, I noticed something was missing from my room. The denim Prophet jacket, which I had left on the end of my bed the night before, was now gone. I went to the hallway and called out. "Hey Mom, were you in my room?"

It took her a moment to reply. "No. Why?"

"Oh... Nevermind."

I looked back, and even checked the closet. I groaned. I must've misplaced it. I decided to ignore it for now, and get to work.

All the ideas that were bouncing around in my head when I visited Apture, I had finally come up with a topic for my writing class assignment. It was something slightly crazy, and something that meant a great deal to me. Something I could write about forever, just describing the details, because there were so many.

I sat down at my desk and started up my computer, while I reached for my backpack and dug through the flaps, pulling out my journal. I laid it down flat and began to read and memorize the first passage. A simple quote from some dead kid.

"I want to see my family, I want to watch my cousins grow up, and I want to see my family grow old together, and celebrate things. I want to see all the new additions, and the loss. I want to be here. My place is here."

I took a deep breath and began to write. More and more, the words just poured out of me. Of course, I had to change names and locations, but it was still there. Everything I felt, out on paper at last. Just as I had always intended it to, all those nights ago.

That night of the accident, I didn't know what to say about it, because it wasn't my grief. It wasn't my pain. I was merely a bystander, and couldn't possibly understand. But I knew so much more now, and it was time to document my thoughts.

I typed, and at noon my mom came in with lunch, with my first serving of medication for various things. From aches and pains to throat swelling, it was all covered in that handful of colorful chemical tablets.

She talked to me for a while, and asked me what I was writing. I just shrugged. "It's my late writing assignment our teacher gave us last week. We were supposed to write about something beyond belief, like myths and stuff."

"What did you write yours on?"

"Ghosts," I replied, smiling slightly at my private joke. It was so much more than that.

She nodded. Her expression told me that she thought this was outside her abilities of understanding. "Let me know if you need anything."

I nodded, and went back to typing. Not because I wanted the thing done, but I wanted to feel all of it again. I read through my notes and passages, and I could feel the same confusion or joy I had within that same moment.

I sighed in contentment, and looked at all the words on my screen. The cursor blinked patiently. I was making progress.

The Black Veil Brides album was playing in the background, and Andy's possessed demon screams could be heard from Knives and Pens. I hunched over my keyboard again and began to type another quote. I was combining everything into a flashback style piece in which the reader could experience everything the author had within a few minutes, resulting in a trippy ass journey which made you feel actual loss.

The end I typed, and sighed. I didn't want it to end there. There were more adventures I could have created for those characters, but it only would have made it longer, and it would have exceeded the maximum word count for the class assignment.

I decided that I would continue writing it later, just for me, because I at least deserved closure and needed to know how things ended. Not to leave them so abrupt as climbing into a casket and that being the end.

I looked over my right shoulder in confusion. Knives and Pens had been carrying on happily in the background, and it suddenly cut out. A few seconds later, The Mortician's Daughter started to play. I groaned and got up out of the hard folding chair, going to the CD player and hitting stop to take out the disc and clean it. Clearly something was up if it skipped half the damn song.

I flipped over the shiny disc and saw my reflection in it, as I carefully scrubbed at it with a soft piece of cloth.

"All right..." I sighed, putting it back in the CD player with a quiet click, and hitting play. I searched the disc until Knives and Pens began to play again, but before the first riff had even sounded, the sound cut out again, a static noise came through the speakers.

I looked at it in confusion, I could...hear something. I leaned closer and listened, turning the volume dial slightly, and there it was, lost in the static, a soft voice.

I was freaking out now... I turned it louder, and listened carefully, trying to make out the words.

Can you... Hear me? Are you... Near me? Can we pretend... To leave and then.... We'll meet again... When both our cars collide.

Helena. I recognized the familiar verse. But as I listened, I realized the music was not coming from the speakers at all... The static was empty. I turned around, and could hear Gerard Way belting the lyrics "So long and goodnight."

There, on the end of my bed, was my cellphone. It's power on, music app opened, and the Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge album art was displayed on the screen.

I approached it slowly, my hands shaking. I looked down at it, but I didn't touch it. I just stared at it, waiting for the next thing to happen and send me into a frenzy.

My breath hitched, and I heard a soft rustle. I looked at the desk to my left, and my notes were scattered across the carpet. I couldn't breathe. My heart was swelling with fear and naïve hope. I closed my eyes and told myself to get a grip. I clenched my hands and took a deep breath.

"Andy," I whispered in recognition, allowing his name to just to hang in the still, silent air. The static had stopped, and the music had paused.

My eyes opened, and I looked down at the phone, the pause symbol displayed now. I was slightly terrified of turning around. Scared that he was there, and how I might react... But what would be worse is how I would react if he wasn't.

I swallowed hard. "Where are you?" I croaked, my hands shaking. I could feel the tears in my eyes as I waited for an answer.

"Dammit," I cursed, getting angry that he wasn't replying, and there was no proof I was actually sane in that moment. I stood there, frozen, my arms at my side. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for disappointment. Before I could even turn around, something cold curled around my torso.


	29. Breathless.

I leapt forward and spun around, eyes as wide as saucers, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Ash."

I couldn't breathe or move. I couldn't do anything to react. I felt frozen, caught in the gaze of death, unable to move or say anything. I took in rugged breaths just to keep breathing, because it was a habit. The rest of my body had already gone into shutdown, starting with my brain.

"I'm really trying not to scare you!" he defended, holding his hands up.

"Really?" I choked out in fear. "Is that what all that shit was?! HOW THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?!" I shouted angrily, my voice shaking and cracking as I strained it.

"Calm down-"

"No!" I shouted, the hurt and betrayal pouring with the tears. "Not until you explain to me how the fuck you're here right now!" My hands began to tremble, and he noticed.

"You're going to give yourself another panic attack. Just like last night..."

My lip twitched into a furious snarl. "You were there, too?! Where the hell else have you been? ‘Cause it seems to me, you like to see the miserable me without you, than the one who loves your presence," I cried, trying to keep my parents from hearing me.

Surprise struck his cloudy blue eyes. "I've been trying to keep you safe."

"Safe, he calls it," I echoed with heavy sarcasm. "Where the fuck were you when I was attacked? When I was bullied? When I lashed out? When I was home late that one night. Yeah, some fucking savior you are." I snarled, hatred and hurt coloring my tone.

He recoiled, and a glare took over the kind, patient expression he wore. "Hey, lay the fuck off, alright? You're not the only one who's been in hell!"

"Really?! Okay, asshole, tell me all about how Goddamned terrible your week has been."

His face contorted in anger, worse than I'd ever seen, and I'd be lying if I didn't say it struck a shiver of fear into me.

"I gave up crossing over for you, you know," he growled. I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"Why?"

"I realized how much you needed me. At least, I thought so. That's why I waited... I wanted to be sure it wasn't a waste."

An unamused laugh broke from my lips, and I scoffed. "Right... I tell you everything about myself, but I don't actually care about you."

"It wasn't like that! Ash- I..." He groaned, and paced, pinching the bridge of his nose to control his anger. "I care about you. But I also didn't want to be hurt! You don't know how many times I wanted to reveal myself. How many times I absolutely loathed myself, because of what I had put you through by involving you in my problems. It was exactly like CC said! You declined immediately after the funeral. Don't pretend I never saw you clutching my photo and jacket while you cried every night."

I was taken aback by his blunt statement. He fumed, and I cried.

"You put me through all this stupid shit!" I shouted, the tears ran down my cheeks as I confronted him. "I didn't need any of this! I was starting to cope with it, truly believing you were dead, and then poof! You just show up again, and expect everything to go back to normal? I can't! It's too late!"

"Never say that!" he hissed angrily, crossing the room in two steps to grab my wrists. "Look at me! I can't fucking do this shit anymore! I had two decisions, and I gave up what I wanted for what you needed. You didn't know you needed it then, but you were like me. When Ashley died, I made myself be happy. I force-fed myself that crap just to keep everyone around myself positive. But inside, I was wasting away. I wish Ashley had been there for me, to help me recover. But he couldn't be." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I realized as I lied in that coffin, my life is over. There's nothing more to it. You have a whole future, and everything that happens now is going to affect it. If all it takes is for me to sacrifice my happiness just once, to save the rest of your life, I wasn't going to just lie there and let the opportunity pass me up. You don't know what you need, but trust me, you would have realized it years from now, and wished that things could be different. God knows I do."

He locked eyes with me, and I was still furious, hurt and betrayed. I looked away from his eyes, because I could already feel the calmness seeping into my veins, making me feel like rainbows and confetti icing. I didn't want to feel like that. I wanted to feel angry. I yanked my hands away and dropped them at my sides.

"Fine. I get why you did it, but why would you do that to me? I was proud of you for making that decision, and I was going to be happy with whatever you chose, because I care about you. And then suddenly you're back, telling me you spied on me, on my private grief, all damn week."

He looked appalled. "I was observing-"

"Same damn thing!" I snapped. "Why couldn't you just tell me you were staying that day? Things could be so much different right now," I almost begged. "None of what I did had to happen. None of it... I would have kept on being a perfect student, a less than perfect kid, and I never would have had to hear my dad tell me I was a disappointment. All of that is on you!" I shoved him away from me as he reached out again.

His arms fell to his sides, and he looked at me with hurt eyes, but did not interrupt.

"I wouldn't have felt like I needed to change so much, because I already had everything I needed. I love you, Andy. I love you so much it hurts, and you didn't see that, you clearly haven't this whole time if, no matter what I was going through, you did nothing. I actually thought about death once... It was once, but that's enough, isn't it? To plant the seed of doubt and hate into one's mind? Damn them to a life of depression, anxiety and self-loathing. I get why you waited. You were just trying to be sure the decision was a good one. But why bother?! Because once you missed that timeline, you are here, indefinitely. It wouldn't have mattered what I thought, one way or the other. Because you made that decision. Not me. You wanted to be able to blame me when this went south, because you didn't get your happily ever after."

He was speechless. He just stared at me, strands of his black hair falling out of place across his forehead in a saddened mess.

"Do you really think I'd hate you if I didn't get what I wanted?" he finally murmured after a few silent moments of fuming. "If this friendship didn't work, I had other places I could be. People to visit, family to watch grow old. There are so many things I haven't gotten to do, that I can still do in this form. It wasn't just for you. But it mostly was. It's like I said, the only thing I was thinking about, as I lied there, was what you needed. I discarded all emotion for myself, and drug myself out of that coffin, just to do what I've always done."

I looked at him silently, my arms crossing, tears dripping from my chin. "What's that?" I asked unenthusiastically.

"Save people," he responded quietly. "As a human, my music did that for people. It was enough to convince them suicide was not the option. But in this form, I have to physically stop people from hurting themselves. You included. You might not have ever reached for the razor, but your mind would be ill. You'd suffer depression, mood swings and anxiety. Social interaction would become your biggest fear. I had to try and stop that, stop you from becoming me. My parents? My family? They might've all seemed very proud of me on the day of the funeral, but if you'd seen how they resented me after my attempts of suicide, you would not view them the same. The same thing would happen to you. It's already beginning. You cannot deny that."

My lip quivered, and I looked down. My parents had had a noticeably different approach to me since I got grounded. They were hesitant, and more observant of how I was acting than the words I was saying.

"You see it, too," he claimed. It wasn't a guess. And since he had apparently been there, every second of every day, of course he'd seen it.

I choked on my breath, just trying to breathe. My shoulders slumped and shook. I don't know when he did it, or why he bothered after the hurtful things I'd said to him, but I felt two cold arms wrap tightly around me, and he rested his chin on my head.

"It's okay." He sighed. I could still hear the touch of hurt in his voice as he struggled to remain kind. He didn't have to, and I didn't deserve his presence, no matter what we'd both sacrificed for this moment.

I wrapped my arms tightly around him, my hands touching metal on his lower back, and I realized they were the handcuffs.

"You took the jacket." I sighed with a tired laugh.

I heard his reply chuckle. "I only said I wanted you to look after it."

I gave a small smile as I buried my face in his chest. I took notice of all the fine details, and realized the whole thing felt like an impossible dream. He was here again... And even though I was hurt that he allowed me to go through the whole week, facing all those obstacles on my own, I was still beyond grateful he had returned.

I continued to hug him for what felt like an impossibly long time. I just didn't want to let him go, because I feared he'd disappear into a puff of dust like he always did. But this time, he'd never return.

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him something profound, but was interrupted by a knock on my bedroom door.

Of all the damn best timing in the world.

I groaned, and pulled away from Andy to smile at him, in a broken saddened way, before wiping down my cheeks quickly to erase the tears.

"Yeah?" I called as clearly as I could.

"Ash? Can you come downstairs in a minute? Me and your dad need to talk to you."

"Oh... Okay." I furrowed my brow, and heard her walk from the door. I looked at Andy in confusion. "What's that all about?"

He shrugged. "I have no clue. I haven't heard or seen anything."

"But you've been everywhere..." I began in annoyance. He shot me a glare.

"I only followed you. Everywhere you were, I was. I never left your side."

I frowned. "I guess that's cute... In a creepy, stalker way." I shrugged, going to the mirror to wipe off the black makeup that had run down my face. I blinked rapidly to get rid of the bloodshot eye issue I had. I also noticed Andy was being exceptionally quiet, and there was still a lot of tension.

I sighed. "I'm sorry. For everything. We'll have the chance to talk about it in a minute, okay?"

"I'm coming with you." He snorted, stalking past me, out my bedroom door into the hallway to wait. I took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, before following him out.


	30. Glass.

"It's been a long week, without you, my friend. And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again," Andy said to me, and I gave him a small, stressed smile. Recognizing the lyrics from a song I'd shown him one night.

I couldn't get myself to calm down. The encounter with Andy still had my heart thudding frantically, and my hands refused to stop shaking. I was fretting what the news would be... It could be a number of things. I prayed it was nothing serious.

Andy reassured me multiple times on the way down the stairs that it was nothing serious, but I still worried.

I found my parents in the kitchen, sitting on one side of the table. My dad smiled at me and gestured for me to have a seat. My mom got up long enough to make tea, setting the cup in front of me. I looked down at the swirling darkness, waiting for them to speak while I fidgeted.

Andy took the seat beside me, patient but looking worn. No, what I yelled at him for wasn't fair, he was only doing what he thought was right. But that didn't mean what he did, and continued to do the whole week, was okay.

My mom took a deep breath to begin, and my gaze flickered to her.

"So... We need to tell you something. We just need you to listen, and understand. Okay?"

I looked at them both in confusion, but finally nodded.

"I was fired two days ago."

I stared at them, and then at my dad alone, stuttering for words.

"What?" I whispered in disbelief. "Why?"

He took a deep, patient breath, and I sighed... Realizing why.

"Because you were late that day? It was only an hour! You came to get me, took me home, and you were back!

"I know, I know... But this was a timed project, and we cut it pretty close. We still finished by the deadline, but Harold Gallager made a point to tell me he didn't need employees who couldn't take their jobs seriously." His tone was irritated and saddened.

"But you've worked there for sixteen years," I murmured in confusion. "It was only one slip-up. How could that possibly be enough?"

"Actually, I think this has been coming along for a while now..." my dad admitted with a sigh. "I butt heads with Harold every now and again, and he is the kind of man who only wants things done his way. Plus, he wanted to bring new people onto the payroll, but that means getting rid of old employees. So in a sense, having an old dog put down."

"Oh..." I could feel my heart sinking. There was more... There always is.

"But... That's not all of it," my dad added on, enhancing my fears. "Afterwards, the same day, I ran into Micky Bronson at the grocery store of all places. You remember him?"

"Yeah..." I sighed in thought. Micky had a younger daughter who was my age. Micky and my dad used to be co-workers until Mickey relocated to California to start his own construction company. But in the time I'd known him and his daughter, we'd been good friends. "What was he doing back?"

"Visiting family." He shrugged, clasping his hands together on the table. "It was like a God send, running into him. I told him what had happened, and he offered me a job on the spot."

My breath hitched as the pieces began to come together... "But... He lives in California, right?"

He pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "We'd have to move."

"Isn't there anything else here?" I wondered in fear. Fear of the unknown. I'd never been out of Utah, not even to visit what family I had in California. It was all foreign and new to me.

"There is, but none it compares to the income we could earn out there. Micky already offered me a twelve dollar an hour wage on the first week. This could be something we really need. A fresh start."

I could see he was trying to remain upbeat about it, for my sake. But I could tell he was just as terrified about it as I was.

"With new neighbors, friends, places and things..." I whispered, taking a deep breath. I'd be putting Pendant behind me... Was I even ready for that?

I took a deep breath to calm myself down, yanking my hand back in surprise under the table when something cold grasped it. I had forgotten how cold Andy was. I looked at him, his blue eyes wide in concern, another squeeze around my hand.

"When would we leave?"

My parents pursed their lips and sighed, looking at each other before replying. "This week. We'd have to rent an apartment until either the house sold here, or we made enough to buy a new one. We'd be leaving Monday, if that's the case. To make a trip, at least, to check things out first. Actually moving? I'd say within the next few weeks. We have enough money saved to hang around for a while."

My heart sank... All the people I had met and loved here: CC, Jake, Jinxx... I wouldn't see them again for a long time.

"Are you sure we have to do this?"

"We don't," he replied, "but it's something I'd like to try. There's a lot to see in California. Plus, your mother's sewing business could pick up out there. You could pursue a great career at one of their many schools and colleges, there's plenty of jobs and work..."

I tuned out. The numbness spreading throughout my body quickly became anger.

"We're moving, for no damn reason?" I demanded in a low voice, scowling at my father. "That's the plan? Instead of getting a new job, we're gonna uproot and move all the way to California for a job that might not even be worth the trouble."

"I know you're upset. That's why we didn't tell you."

"I'm upset because you didn't tell me sooner! Now you're telling me we're going to California on Monday to scout it out. I haven't even had the time to mentally prepare myself for this." I pressed my palms against my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut.

"I'm sorry," I apologized in a flat tone, "but you're making a terrible mistake."

I shoved my chair back from the table, yanking my hand from Andy's. I ran from the kitchen, up the stairs to my room, where I locked the door. I went to the window immediately and curled up in a ball of panic and anxiety, hugging my knees, looking out the glass at our cheerful front yard. I couldn't get the negative thoughts out of my head.

I'd never see my front yard again. I'd probably never return to Apture. I'd never get to graduate with the kids I'd known my whole life. I was leaving behind the family and friends I have here.

"I'm sorry," Andy's deep voice rumbled sympathetically behind me. I sighed, hugging my legs tighter.

"I'm not in the mood to talk," I murmured in reply, feeling the numb emptiness consuming me as I continued to gaze blankly.

"Really?" He scoffed, pulling out my desk chair to sit across from me. "Because I really think you need to. Keeping it bottled up inside isn't going to do a damn bit of-"

"Neither is telling me what I need to feel and think," I snapped at him, my gaze finally trailing to meet his. "This really isn't what I need right now. Because on top of everything else, today has to be the day for fucking surprises. First you show up to rattle off to me why you stayed, and then my parents tell me we're moving over some bullshit reason, and you want me to express my God damned feelings? Okay, here's some for you: I'm outraged, hurt, panicking, and feel like my heart is about to explode. My neck hurts, my voice sounds like a strangled cat, I hate the fucking world and wish that for once, I could simply disappear into the background of things. But no, I'm a fucking circus attraction," I told him with heavy sarcasm and hurt in my tone. "How's that?" I breathed as a tear rolled down my cheek.

He didn't reply, so I sighed and kept going. "I'm heartbroken, and feel betrayed. I wish there was one fucking person on this planet I could talk to right now who wasn't going to patronize me. I want someone to fucking tell me I'm being a bitch, to calm the hell down and fucking chill. But you won't do that... You're my God damned therapist," I snarled. His eyes flickered black and he glared at me.

"For the love of God, Ash. I'm trying to fucking help you."

"You're trying to hurt me," I whispered, my voice merely a whistle stuck in my throat.

His jaw clenched and flexed. Annoyance and pain played out in a beautiful symphony across his face as the moments passed. Finally he spoke, his cool voice coming out in a low, broken whisper while he looked down.

"Do you want me to leave?"

It was a legitimate question, and I found myself considering the answer. I silently assessed my thoughts, remembering the agony that was heartbreak. The pain that followed me for days after the funeral. The day he was supposed to be gone for good.

"No," I finally whispered. "No, I don't want that. I'm just hurt with the things you did... And I hope you can accept it'll be a while before I can forgive them." I sighed. The pain felt like pressure in my chest, threatening to send a river of tears to my eyes. It wouldn't matter, though. He'd seen me cry one too many times.

He sighed in irritation. "How many times do I have to say, it was for you?"

I looked at him, but I couldn't find an answer for him. "I missed you," I replied softly, looking out the window. In some ways, it felt like he was still gone because of the impossibly thick piece of glass that seemed to between us. I just wanted to start cracking jokes with him, but there was something within myself, something I couldn't quite explain, that kept me from doing so.


	31. Don't.

My parents came to knock hesitantly on my door a half hour later. At first I ignored them, but when their complaints became more persistent, Andy spoke up.

"That's the tone parents use when they think their kid is committing suicide... You should probably open it."

I shot him a glare for his cruel comment and got up with a groan, going to the door to yank it open.

They both looked at me in surprise, their fists raised in a premature knocking position. "Oh..." They both sighed at once. I was too tired to put on a smile right then, so I gestured for them to come in. They both did, my mom sitting on the end of my bed, and my dad awkwardly standing there, slowly turning, taking in all the pairs of eyes staring back at him from the many band posters that graced my walls. I sighed, but waited for them to speak first.

"We're sorry, Ash," my dad blurted out, turning away uncomfortably from the wall of eyes to look at me. He crossed his arms and looked at me sympathetically. I heard Andy scoff and looked at him, sitting in the pink plush chair beside the bed, arms crossed, feet up, glaring at my Dad.

"But me and your mother have been talking this through... We really think it's what we all need. Pendant is a wonderful town, it really is. But it's not a town for opportunity."

I held my tongue from calling him out on his bullshit. He just didn't want to work in the 'busy' traitor side of Pendant, where there were no small businesses, just chain stores.

"We've been playing safe your whole life, making just enough money to get by and keep bills paid. But I really think this whole thing was a wakeup call. It's time to do something different."

I sighed, turning away to go sit on the ottoman, knocking Andy's feet to the floor discreetly in the process. He growled, scooting up in his chair.

"I understand that you crave an adventure or whatever, but I really would have appreciated being told sooner. It isn't so much the idea of moving that's troubling me. It's me not being ready for it just yet. I need time to process this... To start saying my goodbyes to people and places. I've never been outside the state, and now we're moving halfway across the US?"

He didn't have a reply, so he gave me a weak crooked smile.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second. "I'm just not ready to let it go yet."

I was speaking for more than just myself. Andy had stayed here so he could watch over his family and friends. He couldn't do that from California. I dreaded what he'd do when it was time for us to move, if he'd follow me or stay here.

"I can understand that... We're not ready, either. But think of it as an adventure for all of us."

I grimaced. I could only imagine it as a living Hell we'd all have to endure together. They were clearly firm on their decision, the way my dad patiently paced, lost in thought, and the way my mother was at ease, awkwardly looking at the poster prints of bands with peculiar looking members.

I looked to Andy for a sign. He leaned forward on his elbows, clasping his hands together. "I will follow you," he told me calmly, but his voice sounded stressed. "You're the one person I can't let down. And I feel I have already. I'm going where you go. It'll be okay."

I ground my teeth and nodded slightly, looking forward. There was no easy way to deal with this. Day by day, some event would take place that would put further destruction in my life. How long until I completely self-destruct?

Closing my eyes, I bowed my head forward and just thought for a moment, of all the terrible things that could happen if I left my safe haven of Pendant. But also... What good things awaited me in California? Would it actually be as bad as my over-reactive mind would make it out to be?

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. My parents were both looking at me.

"Well?" my dad inquired softly.

I shrugged, and exhaled slowly. "I still don't like it... The idea of leaving, the idea of all these new things I will have to face if we did. I'm not entirely against it, either... I just don't think it's what we need to be doing. I mean, the house is almost paid for, Mom has her job and with your expertise, you could easily obtain a new one. Why, exactly, do we have to uproot? You're both young, and have time to make mistakes, I get it, but do we have to make them?"

My dad looked irritated and began to pace again without giving me an answer. I wanted to apologize for being so straight forward, but I wasn't. I was telling them how I felt about it and they didn't want to accept what I was saying. Almost as if the two of them were in denial, and they just wanted to make this outrageous mistake for the sake of saying they did.

"It's not only the job that's in California, Ash." My dad sighed, relapsing back into his pleading tone. "75% of our family resides there, including your Grandma, who isn't doing so well. I really think we all need to be out there when..." He trailed off, and I stiffened up.

"When she what? When she keels over?" I finished his sentence, giving him a hard look. "Because, ya know already, she's not going to make it, right?"

"Ash-"

"She's only in her late sixties!" I exclaimed in exasperation. "And she only has a cold! You're so quick to write her off," I muttered.

I could see actual anger and hurt in his eyes as he turned to scowl at me. "I don't know what's gotten into lately, young lady, but it ends now!"

I recoiled against his harsh tone to glare. "I can think of a few things," I growled. "You two springing this shit on me, for one!" I shouted, my vocals straining into a hiss.

"Language!" he scolded me, but I glared at him.

"Bullshit," I muttered, looking him dead in the eyes. "I'm sorry I'm not perfect!" I threw my hands up. "I'm sorry I'm a burden and I don't want to tag along for your shit-storm plan! I'd rather stay here in Pendant, alone, than go out to California with you!"

His arms, which were lifted, dropped to his sides in surprise. He looked as though I'd just slapped him, and the harsh echo of them in the still air made it feel as though I had. But his response was not one I expected.

He calmly regathered himself, my mom standing by his side in shock, calmly speaking to him. He whisked her off and looked up at me with deadly calm eyes. "I thought you'd be happy for me," he grumbled, his shoulders rising and falling in a weak shrug. "But I guess not. But you're sixteen years old, and you're my daughter, and you will start packing and by Monday morning, I expect you to have an attitude so fucking chipper, you could fill in for a Disney princess at DisneyLand. Do you understand me?"

It wasn't the eerie calm of his voice that shocked me, but the fact that he cussed. I'd never heard him cuss, no matter how pissed off or agitated he was, he never did. He heaved an irritated sigh and exited my bedroom in a sweeping motion, closing the door behind him.

I faced my mother, her face taut, red in anger and embarrassment. She had no calm, chiding words for me. "Asheen Emily Hunter." She addressed me with my full name, her hard gaze seeing right through me. "Think about the things you said to your father; think about how you'd feel if someone told you those things. And when you're ready, come downstairs and apologize."

She worded it as a suggestion, but it was an order. I nodded numbly, holding back the blinding wave of anger until she left my room. That's when the tears came, and I spun around and marched towards my vanity, grabbing the ceramic cat figure off the desk and turning to chuck it at the wall.

It went sailing through the air in a straight arc before colliding with the sheet rock, exploding into a dozen jagged shards across the bedspread below it. The impact exposed some of the powdery white substance beneath the light purple paint, glaring back at me in a mocking fashion.

My chest rose and fell with angry breaths. I clutched my hands into tight fists until blood dripped from between my knuckles and my fingers ached, and I screamed. I screamed at the top of my lungs, reaching up to grip my hair at the roots. Blood running down my face from my hands, I howled angrily.

"Doesn't she fucking get it?!" I shrieked, blind anger consuming me as I shoved things over, breaking as many things as I could in the small space provided. "That is the incarnation of the shit I have to put up with as school every fucking day! I have fucking been told that!"

Andy reached for me and I spun out of his grip, grabbing a fistful of summer dresses from the closet, yanking them with all my strength into a heap of withered tulle fabric.

"You don't have to destroy your whole bedroom to get the point across," Andy called from behind me, racing to tackle me again. He gripped my arms tightly and squished me into a hug, where I struggled against him until I'd finally relaxed and cried myself out.

"Calm down!" Andy commanded, grabbing my hands, carefully unravelling them from my hair, where they were tangled in a mat of bloody knots. I didn't protest or drag him into my anger fit. I just heaved a sigh, choked by a sob, standing there like a broken China Doll while he wiped the blood off the cuts on my hands.

"Easy..." he whispered as my hands shook and the tears ran free.

"They don't get it," I growled. "They never will. This is what will make them happy. They don't give two shits what I think."

He gave a small, sympathetic smile, which tugged at his lip ring a bit. He looked back down and wiped at my palm with a tissue.

I groaned and looked up at him with blurry, stinging eyes. I still felt like throwing things and having a tantrum like a child. "I really do not deserve your help," I admitted sadly, looking into his eyes, the relieving, cool calm wave coming over me, making me believe the things I was thinking and doing were very silly.

"You do," he replied, his hair falling out of order across his forehead as he looked down in concentration.

"Why are you helping me?" I whispered in confusion, genuinely wondering why he even bothered at this point. I'd been so angry with him earlier. I almost started chucking things at him, too. Not that he would have been harmed; it would have annoyed him at best.

"Because that's what friends do," he replied quietly with a small smile, scrubbing carefully at the crescent shaped cuts along my palm. "Ashley'd clean me up all the time back when I'd get into school fights. He'd sit me down, scrub my face and give me one of his famous pep talks. Normally made me feel better afterwards," he said with a shrug.

"Ugh... I just don't feel like they get it..." I groaned after a few minutes of silence. "They don't understand how hard this is on me. Especially right now with everything going on. I've never been outside the state for anything. Most everything we ever needed or did was right within the comfort zone of Utah. And now they're going to drag me to California on Monday to visit it, and possibly move later... That's like taking someone's entire life and throwing it in a blender, watching it spin around, getting all mixed up."

"California's not so bad," he defended quietly. "It's quite pleasant, actually. Not trying to curb you or side with your parents, but I do think you'd like it there."

I sighed, a heavy heave of breath. I really had no energy left to complain.

"I can't apologize," I muttered. "Not tonight, at least... Because I'm just going to keep fighting if they bring it up, and it will only make things worse. That's not what any of us need right now." I shook my head and sighed. "I tend to overreact, yes, but it's unfair what they expect of me. My dad, especially. Since he's a follower of the church and the Lord, he feels like he has to have a perfect spawn crop or something, or else it'll all be a waste. That's what no one seems to grasp... I'm not perfect. I never was."

Andy dropped my hands and sighed as he finished. He stood there, silently facing me. "Now I'm gonna call you a liar," he told me, looking me square in the eyes. "You're perfect enough for me, and that's enough. Isn't it?"

"You must be blind," I mumbled in embarrassment, looking down.

"Maybe... But I'd like to believe in what I do see."

"This just got awkward." I sighed, turning to go clean up the shattered bits of ceramic off the bed. I was worn thin, tired of everything and everyone. The expectations everyone had for me continued to grow the more I failed. I found it increasingly hard to make everyone happy at once, no matter how hard I tried.

I didn't bother changing into pyjamas. I just lied down and turned out the light. "I'll apologize in the morning." I sighed. "Thank you, Andy... And no matter what I say or feel... I'm glad you're back."

I heard his chuckle behind me and he materialized, rolling around on the bed obnoxiously, searching for a comfortable position like a dog. "I am, too. Too many nights spent in that God awful chair..." He stretched out gratefully in the darkness. It picked at my curiosity.

"How many nights were you actually here?"

"Most all," came his reply. "Some nights I just went on walks, visited people, but after walking in on two uncomfortable situations, I decided I should stick to dropping by during the day." He laughed.

"What does that mean?" I rolled over halfway to look at him.

He lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling with a fond smile on his face. "I scared the shit out of Jake four nights ago... Walked in on him, ah..." He trailed off, laughter taking over his voice.

I was easily distracted, and accepted the opportunity to cleanse the guilt from my mind for a few minute. "I really do not want to know what you were going to say." I sighed, waiting for him to elaborate on what else he had done.

"I think he pissed himself," he continued, his giggles childish. He kicked his feet in amusement at the memory. "I threw a tissue box at him... Then a newspaper, and turned on a Barney children's tape on his stereo, and left him to freak out."

He rolled over and buried his face in the pillows, his body shaking the bed in laughter. "Just a friendly reminder, you're not the only reason I stayed."

My smile faded slightly. "But how will it matter if I move? You can't see them anymore."

"I can still visit," he replied, his smile fading slightly, but not gone. "I can teleport, remember? It'll just take longer, I suppose."

"You still have no idea what you're doing with this whole ghost thing, do you?" I chuckled in the dark.

His laugh was his response. "Not a clue."


	32. Sorry.

I couldn't sleep... Even if I had wanted to.

Andy tossed and turned, in and out of a fake state of rest. I could tell he was still awake, because his eyelids would twitch every few seconds, but I never said anything. In fact, I appreciated that he was at least pretending to be asleep so I could have some alone time to sort out my thoughts.

But it was a waste, anyway... Because I couldn't. My mind felt like it was in a blender, and I was still struggling with all these ideals. Who I was a week ago, who I am now, and what this trip to California was going to turn me into. I could walk out a terrible, angry, depressed monster no one wanted to be around... Seeing as how I was starting down that road already.

I hugged my arms and lay there in silence. The lights off, no music playing, me sitting alone on the window seat with the window cracked open slightly. Just so I could hear the gentle, quiet hum of the crickets outside, and feel the cool midnight breeze drift into the room, fluttering the curtains softly.

I sighed... What had I done to make things this way? It was quite simple, really. I'd looked at a dead body, and it was over for me. It hadn't thrown me into some terrible state of shock like it should have. Instead, it did the complete opposite, and even now, after almost two weeks, I was still struggling to understand the mechanics of it.

Bad things were happening frequently, all because of my insatiable taste for curiosity. Curiosity got me into trouble. Had I never stood there on the blood-and-raindrop-stained blacktop, looking down pitifully at the dead boy's blue eyes before they closed them, I might not have ever given him another thought. And at the most, a couple years down the line, I might see something that would remind me of it, but it'd be nothing more than a passing thought.

I hugged my knees and contemplated if I actually believed it was all a mistake. I'd never thought of it that way up until now. Did I actually regret seeing him? Striking into him some weird curiosity that made him follow me home and stalk me? Any sane person, after a night like that first one, would never have even uttered the word Andy again if they knew he could just pop up.

I wondered for a moment if things would be different for him too, if I'd chosen to ignore him afterwards. Would he have decided there was nothing really worth hanging around for on earth, and continued his mission into the afterlife, whatever that was, to find Ashley? I'd like to think so. I'd like to think things would have continued to chug along on the perforated line train track they'd been following my whole life.

But maybe... This was what I needed. My whole childhood and adolescent years had been spent wearing preppy summer dresses, going to church on Sundays, then to school in the fall, hanging with the same microscopic group of friends. My life had no adventure. It had light, and life, but it had no meaning.

That reminded me of a quote Gerard Way, the previous singer for one of my favorite bands, My Chemical Romance used to say. "Sometimes you have to die to rise from your own ashes."

Was that what was happening now? I was reincarnating as the girl I never would have even dreamed of before? The girl, who if I saw her stalking down the school hallway, I'd turn away in intimidation because of her dark clothes and violent glare.

A stronger breeze fluttered through the pale curtains, making them sway further away from the window. I heaved a sigh and stood up quietly. I knew what I needed to do.

I glanced at Andy, who casually, on cue, rolled over and choked out a strangled snore. I smirked and shook my head, creeping towards my bedroom door, surprised when he didn't call out behind me. However, if he wanted to know where I was going, he wouldn't ask, he'd just tag along.

I stepped out into the dark hallway outside my room. The grandfather clock on the second floor landing claimed it was 1:30 in the morning. I listened for my dad's obnoxious snoring, but I didn't hear it, which meant my assumption was right. I went to the stair railing and looked downstairs and, sure enough, there was a dim flicker of light coming from the kitchen.

I slipped down the steps silently. They were covered in that really thick, plush carpet, so even if you thundered down it with your best attempt to wake the whole house, you couldn't.

My dad was easy to sneak up on, especially when he was sleep deprived. But really, I wasn't trying to scare him. Not right then, at least.

I stood back in the kitchen doorway for a few minutes. He had the TV on, but the volume super low, just a hum in the background as he sat at the island, a cup of coffee already on his right hand side, the coffee pot quietly bubbling as it brewed up another batch. He was bent over a long piece of dark blue paper, and across it was an assortment of lines and dashes that made up the floorplan for a building. He held a sharp white pencil, and vaguely outlined things.

I could tell, just from the scene before me, he was already in a slump of depression. He was working on blueprints for a building he'd never work on, watching a cooking show he didn't care about, drinking his coffee cold and black because he didn't have the energy to make it the way he liked it. And worst of all, he was down here alone, in the middle of the night, letting all the sour words and arguments swirl around in his head, plaguing him.

"Dad?" I whispered, and he slowly recollected his awareness, rubbing his eyes before looking over his shoulder.

"Ash? What are you doing up?"

I shrugged a little and slowly approached him, pulling up a seat beside him. "I couldn't sleep."

A tired, humorless chuckle escaped his mouth. "Me either."

I pursed my lips into a thin line, looking down at my hands. I curled my fingers around one another in deep thought before speaking. "I'm sorry, Dad..." I sighed at last. "I know you're trying to do what you can. I can respect that, and I understand it... But I'm just trying to process it."

He reached for his coffee and took a long drink before looking down thoughtfully. "I know, Ash. And I'm sorry, too. Sorry we didn't tell you sooner... Guess we didn't think about what you'd think. I kinda forgot you'd never been outside of Utah before." He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. All of his angry, say-what-you-mean-mean-what-you-say Italian quirks were silent right then. He didn't have some cocky remark to make, backed by his extensive collection of Italian curse terms that he could get away with using because he was the only one in the house who spoke the language.

"I'm okay with checking out California on Monday," I said with a sigh, "but moving..." I took a deep breath, deciding not to continue.

He nodded slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "I get it... Truth is, I'm scared shitless of the whole thing, too. We settled here sixteen years ago, and never gave much thought to what else there was. Worked an all right paying job, earned enough to buy what we needed, but it isn't real happiness."

"So this is the pursuit of happiness?" I wondered, genuinely curious.

He smirked a bit, swirling his coffee cup in his hands thoughtfully. "In a way, yes. But mostly... It's just experimental. Which is why we won't be selling the house for a while. At least, not until we're certain California is the right choice."

"What part of California would we be located in?"

"The East Bay. Berkeley. Good for you, too. That area is rich with punk rock culture. You're into that stuff, right?"

"Of course." I chuckled quietly. "I guess it won't be too bad... It's just the letting go part I'm having trouble with." I heaved a deep breath. "Especially recently... Despite all the bad things that have happened, I did make some genuine friends with the same interests as me. They've inspired me, and I've even been considering music as a career option."

"And in Berkeley, you'll have a good start." My dad smiled proudly at me, despite looking exhausted. "There's a school out there dedicated to music and performing arts. If that's what you want to do."

I shrugged a little. "I've just been thinking about it... And right now, it's the only idea I have."

"Well, I'm glad you're thinking about it." He stood up to kiss my forehead and went to the sink to dump the last of his oil black coffee down the drain. "I'd say it's about time we got to bed." He pointed at the clock, the time almost two.

I nodded and hopped down from my stool and went to leave when he called from behind me.

"Ash?"

"Yeah?"

I turned halfway towards him. He crossed the small distance between us and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. Resting his chin on my head, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Ash," he apologized again.

"It's okay," I whispered back.

After we pulled apart, we said goodnight, and I headed back upstairs to my room, where Andy lay on the bedspread, obviously awake now.

"What's up?"

I went to the bed and lay back down, sighing as I looked up at the moonlight bleached ceiling above me. "I made my apology... We talked some things out."

"Does this mean you're okay with California now?" he asked in confusion and curiosity, pushing himself upright against the pillows to look at me.

I sighed in thought, "I'm okay with visiting. I'm still working on the whole relocating thing."

He nodded, sitting straighter, scratching the back of his neck. "So often I get caught up in the drama of real life that I forget I am dead."

"Are you sad?" I wondered stupidly. Of course he was... He was miserable, as any ghost who missed their deadline would be.

He pursed his lips in thought for a moment, his lip ring sticking out awkwardly. "No... I'm more excited than anything, I guess. Mostly because I've lived in California before, and with luck, all my shit is still there. If you're up to getting it with me, that is," he suggested. I groaned in exasperation.

"How did we go from questioning your emotional well-being to blackmailing me into helping you rob your own home?"

His grin was visible even in the dim light of the room, "I did not blackmail you. I merely suggested that since we're going through with this, might as well get an adventure or two out of it." He winked and I grumbled, rolling onto my side, facing away from him. His obnoxious chorus of laughter sounded behind me.

"Don't be grumpy. I'm trying to distract you."

I snorted. "You're talking about getting me into trouble our first day out there," I grumbled.

"Not the first day," he defended. "We can wait until Tuesday morning, if you want."

"That's like... Eight hours later than your previous offer. What hurry are you in?"

I glanced at him over my shoulder, catching the expression on his face before it faded.

"I'm not in a hurry. There's just some shit I want back before someone goes and cleans out my dorm, assuming no one has yet."

"And if they have?" I wondered idly.

"Then you and I have a trip to the thrift store to get me some new threads." He laughed. "I might not be visible, but I still have a glorious sense of fashion, that will remain unhindered by your opinion."

"I never made fun of your fashion." I chuckled. "I found it rather admirable, actually." I snickered, rolling over halfway to look at his expression. "Because you always looked like you were rollin' with the devil like a badass."

He got this huge, flattered grin on his face, and he pretended to blush in the darkness, even though his incredibly pale skin could never flush pink again. "Why... Thank you."

I grinned back at him. "You're welcome."

"It's Sunday now, isn't it?"

"It's after twelve, so yes. Why?"

"I don't have any amazing plans or places to take you. But I guess since you're still under house arrest, it's better that way." He laughed. "Maybe we can just hang out in the backyard tomorrow."

"That'd be great." I yawned, hugging my pillow while looking at him.

"You should sleep."

"So should you."

"I can't," he replied, his face smoothing of emotion. "Arkham needs me."

That stirred me from my sleepy state. I pushed myself up a little to look at him like he was mental. "Excuse me?" I asked with an amused expression.

He snickered. "Batman?"

"I know who that is and what you quoted," I replied with a flat nod waiting for him to elaborate.

He just laughed it off and hopped off the bed in a weightless lithe. "Actually, I need to fix my makeup."

He went to the mirror to scrub at the four hour old stripe of black war paint across his right cheek, before digging through my vanity drawers for my eyeliner pencils. "Oh, that reminds me!" he exclaimed suddenly, going to my closet, walking back out carrying the deep navy blue suit he'd worn to the funeral.

"Why was that in my closet?"

"Nevermind that." He whisked off my comment, laying the suit across my bed while he reached into the front pocket of the jacket, producing a small object. He tossed it in a high arc, landing in my lap. I looked down at it, recognizing the small purple cylinder of liquid eyeliner.

"Why am I not surprised?" I wondered out loud, rolling it around in my hand thoughtfully.

"You did say I needed to look good in whatever life I chose... So I figured you'd want me to look damn fabulous in this one." He reached out to snatch it from my hands and went to the mirror, proceeding to apply it in the dark.

"Why... are you doing this at 2:30 in the morning?" I groaned, sitting up, placing my head in my hands, my exhaustion wearing my patience thin.

"Because sorry to say, if I'm going anywhere on Monday, I have to smuggle some stuff out of my parents’ house. And I'd rather not have to do it tomorrow night," he concluded, drawing a precise, over exaggerated black streak over his upper lid with a flick of his wrist, pausing to lid the eyeliner.

"So you're leaving?" I mumbled, unable to keep the hint of sadness from seeping into my tone. I had just got him back and he was already leaving... Even if it was only until dawn.

"I'll be back by eight, Mom." He rolled his eyes, walking towards me. Not for me, but to crouch in front of my bed so he could pull over a big leather suitcase.

"Where did that come from?!" I hissed, leaning over the mattress as he unzipped it, throwing open the lid to dig through the messy contents, pulling out his rather odd black duster trench coat.

He flashed another grin. "The amount of things I was able to do without you noticing was astonishing," he cracked, zipping it back up to shove the case back under my bed smoothly.

I glared at him for his comment, watching him proceed to tug the duster up on his shoulders, shrugging into it, adjusting the long worn sleeves to rest comfortably before he faced me one last time. His odd, half shaved-head hairstyle, swept over half his forehead, his black stud earrings and the lip and nose ring. Everything that made him peculiar and ultimately him.

"You're not the only one who has to prepare for the trip to California," he told me softly as he approached my bedroom window. He paused in front of the glass, tattooed hand resting on the sill. "There's a lot of personal demons there that I have to reconcile with... And I'm not sure how to explain those to you."

He opened the window, and I began to reply. "It's never been a problem before..."

But he was already gone, the fluttering lace curtains the only sign he'd been standing there to begin with.


	33. Phase.

I awoke to a slight chill in the room and took notice, groggily, that the window was open, but a bright stream of warm sunlight poured in. Sitting in my usual seat, dressed in a fresh pair of black skinny jeans, all customized with patches and chains and studded belts, a black V-neck t-shirt and his Prophet jacket with a pair of Converse, was Andy. I even noticed that he exchanged his usual black studs for one of my golden cross earrings.

I didn't make it obvious I was awake right away. Instead, I stayed very still and studied him with a half grin. He sat with his knees pulled up, a journal open in his lap. He bit his lip while he wrote, and I found it hard to keep from laughing, watching how sucked in he was to whatever he was doing.

When a strangled chuckle came from me, he looked up in surprise, the sunlight catching all the metal he had in his face, sending prisms across my ceiling and walls.

He glared half-hearted at me. "Emo bitch," he grumbled, sticking his tongue out at me before resuming his work.

"What are you doing?" I laughed, shoving aside the covers and pillows to get up. As I approached him, he closed the journal and looked up at me expectantly.

"What?"

"What are you writing?"

"Stuff."

I laughed and shoved his shoulder, collecting my clothes to go take a shower.

"Your voice sounds better," Andy commented before I left. "You don't sound so much like Andy singing now."

He was half smiling when I looked back at him, and I smiled back. "You heard about CC's input?" I guessed, and he nodded. "Same shit he would've said to my face, though." He chuckled, his deep voice sounding odd and familiar, like waking up from a dream. Only the dream was his presence from a week ago.

I could hear my mom on the phone downstairs as I stepped out into the hallway. I listened for a few moments, and got the gist: it sounded like she was talking to my Aunt Carolyn.

"-Yep! We're heading that way tomorrow. Oh, absolutely! I'm sure we can arrange that.... Yeah... Ash isn't thrilled. Teenagers, right?"

"Psshh." I muttered, continuing towards the bathroom.

~~~

"I see white blotches of nothingness," Andy groaned, lying on his back on the ground of my backyard. He complained because the ground was lumpy, and because a ladybug landed on him, and he was constantly swatting at a fly that had taken a liking to him.

"There's shapes," I insisted, pointing up at a fleecy cloud directly above us. "That one is shaped like a ship."

His face contorted in confusion, and he cocked his head to one side, trying to see it. Finally he shook his head and sighed. "Okay, sure, Ash... I see a ship," he mumbled sarcastically, reaching up to pluck a blade of grass out of his hair, tossing it to his left in annoyance.

"Don't you like the outdoors?" I laughed, and he frowned, shielding his eyes from the sun.

"I like it, just not when it's abusing me," he replied flatly.

We were lying further down from the house, beyond the small pond we had. So if my Mom happened to look out the back window inconveniently, she wouldn't see her teenage daughter having a conversation with the spring air.

"Maybe you're just a city kid," I replied, poking his arm in enthusiasm.

He grunted, rubbing his arm where I'd jabbed him. "Don't you ever clip your nails? Goddamn..." He examined the invisible scratch on his forearm.

I rolled my eyes and sigh. "What a wuss."

He narrowed his eyes at me, blue irises sparkling brightly in the sun against his wishes. "Fuck this shit..." he muttered, reaching up to pull the pair of sunglasses off the top of his tank top, putting them on, crossing his arms, lying there begrudgingly on the cool ground in the warm sun.

"You're grumpy," I commented, scooting up off the grass to sit there, hugging my legs, digging my toes into the earth that stretched out beyond us, fading into a thick forest that went on for miles.

"I'm irritable, yes. Grumpy, no."

"What's got you in stitches?"

I couldn't see his eyes, but I could see the accidental, tiny smile he got as he thought. "There was this one time..." he began, drawing it out.

"Oh, boy, here we go." I clapped my legs, waiting for him to continue. His head angled slightly in my direction, and I could imagine he was probably glaring at me, but he continued anyway.

"A few months after I moved to California, I had made this friend group of weird ass kids. Your classic 90's reject bay punks, you know," he began dismissively.

"Well, I was new, and I was impressionable. They invited me to this... Beach party." He cracked a grin. "I couldn't decline. I had to look cool in front of my peers, so I was like, 'yeah, sure, I'll come'. But I didn't really think about it much. I mean, obviously there's warm days here, but a lot of overcast ones, too. Out there, it's pretty sunny almost every day, and I'd been a recluse since I arrived, so I hadn't really adjusted to the temperature difference yet. So... I show up to this beach party, all wigged out in black shit, like this, except with like heavy leather jackets and all that. I didn't really grasp the words 'beach party'.

“So anyway, I show up, and there's nothing but sand and brine water for miles. Most of them were fresh out of high school or young college students, so I was just the weird twenty-three year old watching chicks sprint across the beach in two-pieces. Quite distracting. Anyway, I'm fucking roasting with all the leather shit I had on, so I take it off, wearing a normal Misfits shirt and jeans, and fuck... Did I get the sunburn of my life. My arms-" He paused in a fit of laughter as he recalled. "Were so red and blistered, you could have mistaken them for pool noodles. They didn't tell me I'd need sunscreen, and I didn't think about it.

“I got sand in my pants, like, the shit sticks to everything. Every little nook and cranny had a fine grain of sand in it. Those students all got shit-faced, most of them passing out from heat stroke, or were puking in the sand... It was undoubtedly the worst day I'd spent in California." He shook his head in disgust as he thought about it. "I guess it wouldn't have been too bad if this chick I was talking to hadn't randomly thrown up on me, but whatever."

After a few moments of silence, he looked up at me, grinning. "You can laugh." He chuckled, and I did. A giggle at his expense and embarrassment.

"And that," he concluded, crossing his arms behind his head, "is why I dislike the sun." He pushed the sunglasses further up his nose to prevent even a sliver of light from touching his eyes.

"You look like one of those rich kids," I joked, getting up from the slightly damp grass to go get another glass of lemonade. "Want anything?" I called back to him.

"Nope... Except maybe less insults," he grumbled.

I headed up the remainder of the lawn barefoot before leaping up onto the concrete stoop, heading towards the sliding glass door on the back of the house. When I got inside, I could hear the vacuum running in the living room.

"Honey!" my mom shouted over the rumble. "You've got mail! It's on the kitchen counter."

Curious, I went to investigate, abandoning my mission briefly to go find it.

Sure enough, on the kitchen island was a small, white, letter-sized envelope. Curious and confused, I searched for a return address, but there was nothing other than the initials E.J. Halican.

My brow furrowing, I cut open the letter and fished out the crisply folded piece of floral stationary.

Hey, Asheen.

I hope this letter finds you well, and excited! I cannot believe it's almost been nine years since we've seen each other. It seems crazy. I can't wait to catch up with you, it's been too long.

I'm really excited to hear our fathers will be working together. Hopefully we can see each other often. But I also hope you're comfortable with the move out here. It was definitely tough on me when we moved from Pendant, but I've learned to love it here.

There are a million things I want to write, but by the time you get this, we could either be conversing already, or it'd be right before you leave, and I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to discuss them.

My father mentioned you play music now. I'd love to hear you while you're here, we have a music room in our house. I don't play, but my brother Franky does. Oh yeah, did you know I have an older brother now? My dad adopted him two years ago after meeting him at my school, learning that he was homeless, so really, we just took him in. He's a year older than me, and a world away in difference, too. I can't wait for you to meet him, though. He's really nice. :)

There are some shops nearby I'd like to show you, as well. Sorry for rambling a bit, I tend to get overly excited. Anyways, looking forward to seeing you soon!

\- Eva

I'd had a small inkling that it was from Eva, Mickey's daughter. That explained the intitials E.J. Halican. Eva Jane Halican.

I smiled and folded up the letter again. The letter had given me a considerable amount of courage for the trip, but also stressed me slightly. But I was excited, in a way. To see her again, to visit family and to see the long, bright beaches. I struggled to get myself pumped up and excited, fixing my messed up mood while I finished out my mission, refilling my glass before re-joining Andy out on the lawn.

"What took so long?"

"Letter," I replied.

"From who?" he asked curiously, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look at me as I approached.

"Eva. She's the daughter my dad's friend in California."

"That Mickey guy?"

"Yep." I sat down cross-legged beside him, looking at the dark woods that extended into an endless void where the lawn ended. "You know what we should do today?" I asked him, easily distracted and in a hurry to change the subject.

"What?"

I pointed at the woods. "It's been a long time since I hiked out there," I replied absently in a nonchalant tone.

"Is it even safe?" He tugged down his sunglasses a little to look at the woods, were a low rising mist of fog rolled about in the shadows of the trees, not yet evaporated by the sunlight.

"These days, anything you do isn't safe. You get attacked at a concert, in a car accident visiting your parents, or your dog gets hit by a car while you step out to get the morning paper. You've just got to know, and accept, life can end at any given moment, so you'd better make sure what you're doing as it happens is worth it."

"So... Like a 'spend more time loving, less time hating' type thing?"

"That's right." I looked fondly at the woods. "If I'm the author of my life and I'm writing in pen, unable to erase my mistakes, I'm going to make sure my life was interesting and well lived. Not a manuscript of forgotten, stressed-out thoughts. Making life the best it can be within the moment is what it's all about, right?"

He narrowed his eyes at me slightly. "Who are you and what have you done with Ash?"

"I'm being serious."

"So am I... I mean, just last night, you hated the world. Now? You're acting all philosophical." He made a face. "Intelligent people with their lives figured out disturb me."

"You disturb me," I replied sarcastically. "I'm a teenager," I defended, stretching out my legs and crossing my ankles, looking at the yard thoughtfully. "I'm supposed to have mood swings that make me want to start World War III one minute, and join Yoko Ono and John Lennon's peace circle the next. It's just a phase, right?"

"Make love, not war," he quoted with a suggestive wiggle of his brow.

I shoved his shoulder. "No." He laughed it off and continued.

"I've found that anything in my life that was supposed to be a 'phase' hung on for dear life..." He sighed with a shake of his head, his expression distant for a moment. "That's why my parents let me have tattoos, piercings and sing in a grunge band. To them it was just a phase. To me, it was my whole life, my future, and I loved it dearly, and did everything in my power to fit to the image." He stretched out his inked arms before him, discreetly showing off his example.

"Anyhow, before I was even a teenager, I knew I was destined for music."

My brows pulled together in thought. "But you studied mechanics in California, right?"

He flashed a brilliant grin, pushing his sunglasses back up, high on the bridge of his nose. "That," he laughed, "was just an experiment. Just a phase."


	34. The Dark.

Tying my Converse laces and standing up, I faced the woods in determination. Andy groaned from the ground beside me.

"Are you coming or not?" I asked him, scooping up my journal and looking down at him.

He sighed and rubbed his face, setting his sunglasses crooked. "Can't you be one of those girls who want to walk in pretty gardens, not creepy forests behind their house?"

"Nope. Sorry." I snickered, setting off on foot towards the dark shadows that reached across the lawn. Andy scurried off the ground to catch up.

"Can we at least eat lunch first?"

"You don't eat," I reminded him, then changing my tone into a forced, deep male voice like his, quoting him directly. "I don't have to eat, piss, sleep... Well, kinda, but most of those things are just routine. A routine I don't have to follow anymore."

He scowled at me, but didn't protest any more as we set foot into the woods.

The birds, for the most part, were silent, aside from the occasional one that would screech out from the branches above.

"You're a lot weirder than I originally gave you credit for," Andy grumbled in his deep voice, hands buried in his jean pockets. He kept looking over his shoulders, seeming to forget that if there was trouble, nothing could hurt him.

"I accept that as a compliment."

"You should. Too many wanna be bitches out there."

I paused to look at him in amusement. "I never know what to think of your creative vocabulary. Sometimes 'bitch' is a compliment, and sometimes it's a rude statement."

"It's only a compliment if I say it to you, bitch queen." He nudged my arm with his elbow as he walked onward, dry twigs snapping beneath our feet.

"Emo bitch queen," I corrected. "Jackass."

He grinned at me. "Challenge accepted."

The sunlight thinned as the branches grew thicker above, woven together like a giant spider-web, casting fantastic shadow patterns across the forest floor.

"Any real reason we're out here?" Andy wondered after a few minutes of silent walking, following the invisible ribbon trail deeper into the woods.

I shrugged. "Apture isn't the only outdoor place I like to go... I haven't been here in a while, though..."

"Where?" he asked, preoccupied with swatting off a spider-web he'd walked into, grabbing onto the sticky netting, tossing it aside, wiping his hands on the trees we passed when he thought I wasn't looking.

"It has no name, no feeling... It's just a place," I replied, remembering the dark bank of shadows that surrounding the riverbed ahead. A far cry from Apture's sunny, open fields, with the peeling floral wallpaper and wildlife darting between the floorboards. This place always felt sinister to me... Maybe that's why it'd almost been eleven months since I'd last visited.

It was just a spot in the woods where you could sit in absolute, petrifying silence. There were no birds in the branches, deer drinking from the stream, no numb buzz of insects by the muddy banks. It was a land trapped in time. Even the trees there all wore thick coats of dead leaves. Leaves that never shed in the fall, they always clung on, shifting and clattering against each other in the wind.

I'd brought Elizabeth out here a year and a half ago. We were studying and got bored, so we went for a walk. When we got there, Elizabeth got paranoid, joking that the place felt hexed.

I shook off her comment at the time, but the closer we got to the stream, I could feel the looming shadows, and darkness growing, even though the sun was trying it's best to penetrate the thick web of branches.

"Uh... It's kind of creepy out here don't you think?"

"It is," I agreed quietly, as though someone might overhear.

"I think it's haunted," Andy blurted out, looking behind us.

"Yeah, by you," I reminded him sarcastically, stepping over a fallen tree carefully.

"We're almost there, right?"

"We're here." I stopped walking, feeling the same uneasy chill I always did when I came here. There was the dark stream, black as oil in the deep shadows cast by the thick branches, splinters of sunlight cutting through the darkness like a knife, lighting up patches of the forest floor, illuminating dry leaves, twigs and bracken.

Absolute silence took over. Even the stream, which should have bubbled and trickled as it moved west, made no sound. It was as though someone had hit mute, everything silent, yet branches still drifted in the breeze, water still moved, and shadows shifted as the sun moved. Nothing changed.

"Okay... So why are we here? Are we going to sacrifice a black cat or something? This place doesn't feel right."

He stood close to me, his shoulder almost touching mine as he looked around, hanging his sunglasses on the neck of his shirt again. "It's weird..." he said absently after a few moments. "It feels familiar."

I scoffed at his comment. "Familiar how?"

"I'm serious," he said, looking up at the big, blackened oak tree that stretched towards the heavens in front of us. "I don't know... The shadows and everything."

"Is this where you ascended from Hell?"

He shot me a 'knock it off' glare over his shoulder. "Noooo…" He drug out his reply dramatically. "There's just something here... I can't put my finger on it."

He almost looked mystified by it, which was odd. I found the place dark and unnerving. Part of the reason I did not visit frequently, and tended to choose Apture over the creek. He was finding some weird level of comfort being there.

"Like what? An otherworldly portal?" I laughed. Not because I actually found it funny, but because of all the things I'd seen recently that defied the laws of reality, it wouldn't be so hard to believe such things existed.

"No... No, I don't think so," he replied after a thoughtful pause.

"Can you hear voices or something?" I wondered. His dreamy expression was beginning to worry me.

His forehead creased in thought, but he wasn't really concentrating on me. "No... Not exactly. I can see the shadows moving, though..."

A strike of fear ran down my spine, and I wondered what exactly he meant by that.

"Are we alone?" My voice shook. If he was right here, in front of me, there could very well be others like him. He'd said as much the night of his funeral.

"That's why there's so many ghosts, haunted houses, Ash... Those ghosts missed their deadlines, and they couldn't cross over then... They ran out of time to make a decision, so the afterlife made one for them."

His voice came back chilling and defensive. "No."

I couldn't speak for a moment. I was just electrically aware of how many pairs of eyes were on me, how many hands brushed against me and how many whispers were in my ears.

"I have to tell you something..." Andy sighed after a few still, silent moments.

"...What?"

"I don't want to scare you." He looked pained when he faced me again.

"You can't," I whispered, meaning for it to come out fearless, but it was a frightened whisper.

"They're all around us," he told me in a low voice. "Always. I'm not trying to make this into some mythical thing or whatever, but that's how it is, there's just.... People like me everywhere, all the time. They rarely make their presence known. It was hard for me to adjust to at first, and I found a way to turn it off... My ghost GPS or whatever you want to call it. It made me feel halfway normal again, not to see spirits from every era, and every possible death, roaming the streets of Pendant. It's bizarre as hell to grasp." He shook his head and looked down.

"There's a lot of them here." His forehead scrunched up in concentration again. "An unusual amount. Murder grounds, maybe. Or, is there a cemetery somewhere nearby?"

I shrugged, too numb to summon actual words, since there were a hundred other pairs of ears listening in. It made me regret every time I'd come out into the woods alone as a child to skip stones in the creek, searching for frogs and fish that weren't there...

"It's a deadzone," I whispered in surprise. He nodded slowly.

"A large collection of spirits without direction or reason. They're jealous."

"Why?" I choked out, yanking my hand back when I was certain I'd felt a hand brush lightly against it.

"Because I found a reason, and they can't."

I looked at him in confusion.

"A reason to stay... It's like I said, not everyone gets to choose their fate. For whatever reason it was they were late to their funerals, or they never got one at all, they are easily angered by those who choose this fate."

I wasn't thinking about any of them as I spoke then. "Is this really a fate?" I wondered.

A small, stressed crooked smile slowly emerged on his face. "It's a curse not without its causes. And perks. I wouldn't call it a fate."

I looked around us again, the sun struggling just to light the section of the forest floor we stood in.

"Can we go back?" I whispered, shaken by the idea of so many angered spirits watching us. The idea seemed absolutely ridiculous. The works of a fiction novel. I found it impossible to believe any of what he was saying was true, and I was just waiting for him to start laughing, slap his knee and shout April Fools or something ridiculous like that, but instead, he looked around in concern, looked squarely to his right, nodding once at something, or someone I couldn't see.

"Yes. Let's go."

He grabbed onto my hand tightly, pulling me with him through the trees, his hand like cold stone.

"Promise me you will never go back there..." he murmured urgently the farther we got from the stream. I couldn't summon words, so I nodded.

"It's dangerous. You've seen what I can do when I'm invisible, and I don't even want to hurt you. Tired old spirits just want a reason to go to Hell, because at this point, they'd rather be burning than spend another decade here."

"They'd try to kill me?" I wondered in surprise.

"In a sense... I don't know. I'm still a newbie to the whole thing, and to tell you the truth, I'm not interested in learning the laws. Just promise me you'll stay out of the woods?"

He stopped walking and turned to face me, gripping my hand tightly. He looked at me patiently with his grey-blue eyes.

I nodded at last. "I promise." After what I knew, I had no intentions of ever stepping beyond my backyard again.

"Okay." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. "It was a nice walk while it lasted, I guess." He laughed. "But you'd better get back before your Mom loses her shit, thinking you've been abducted or something."

Nudging me forward, we continued towards my house in silence. The more distance we put down, the more sun reached us on the forest floor, and the less I felt like I was being watched. I could tell we'd stepped out of the 'deadzone' when I could hear the birds singing above, loud and clear, the chirps and swirl of movement in the branches.


	35. Sketches.

“Asheen! This is the third time I've called. Don't make me come in there.”

Groaning, I rolled over, hand fumbling across the tossed sheets, fingers stretching out in search of my phone.

“The time is six forty-seven, and your Mom is getting irritated.”

My eyes shot open. Andy stood at the end of my bed with his arms crossed, dressed in a white Misfits shirt which was little more than a holy rag with a neck hole and oversized arm holes cut into it. He'd already done his makeup, probably finished packing, and like the organized fuck he was, he was probably already ready to go.

“Do I seriously have to go?” I groaned, rolling over to cover my face in my pillow.

“Yes. Now get up and get ready. We're leaving in a half hour.”

I heard my mother's retreating footsteps and groaned. What a nice Sunday I'd had, and a nice sleep I'd been having, and it was all destroyed by the reminder of the dreadful trip to California today. We'd be stopping at the halfway point, somewhere in Nevada for the night.

All I really did yesterday was procrastinate about packing, and play chess and checkers with Andy in the backyard. Remaining just out of view of all the windows, it felt like to me he was real, and to anyone looking our direction, I was playing a one man chess game.

Around ten last night, Andy began pestering me about getting packed, and even threatened me once that if I didn't, he would. And I wouldn't like what he'd pick out. I begrudgingly grabbed the first things I saw in the closet, and shoved them in my suitcase to appease him before passing out on the bed.

Now it was morning and I had to face the fate that awaited me on the other side of the long ass drive to California.

Part of me wondered, if I hadn't gotten in trouble, if my parents would have considered me mature enough to stay home alone. It's a bit of a long shot, but it was a reachable goal a week ago. Now, with all the agony I'd caused, it was unlikely I'd ever hear the words home alone and me together in a sentence again.

“Get up, lazy ass.” I felt Andy shake my shoulder, and I rolled over onto my face swatting lazily at him.

"No," I growled, determined to slip back into the nice sleep I'd been having.

Abruptly, the covers were yanked off my mattress, and the mattress itself disappeared from beneath me. My eyes opened to find I was levitating... Well, after I regained my senses, no levitating, (major disappointment) but I was scooped up in Andy's struggling arms.

“You're a lot damn heavier than you look,” he grunted in a strained voice before finally settling for dropping me on the floor. I glared up at him, and slowly I picked myself up off the floor.

"Thanks for the nice wakeup call, sweetie," I told him in a flat, unamused, sarcastic tone.

He smiled cheekily, patting his trusty leather suitcase by the door. “I can't help that I'm more prepared for this trip than you.”

I scoffed. “No one likes a show-off, asshole.”

“Well, I'm glad to see we're good enough friends that you no longer scream at me about being in your house,” he replied grimly with a frown.

I laughed at his comment. “That was your own damn fault. You were unannounced, in my room like a gust of mist, and you wanted me to hear you out. Unlikely.”

“I didn't think you'd pass out...” He sighed, shaking his head at the memory. “Anyway, stop procrastinating. I'll be downstairs when you're ready to go. And don't forget the headphones!”

“Why?”

A mischievous smile crossed his face. “It's my turn.”

“Your turn for what?” I demanded, and he laughed, disappearing before I could squeeze in another question. I groaned, but continued reluctantly with my jobs, putting them in order as I went.

I didn't bother putting on makeup, so I just tossed the bottles and canisters into my makeup bag without much care, brushing my hair out quickly before tossing the brush into my suitcase as well. I changed into a light, white t-shirt and blue jeans. I wasn't in a great mood, and it certainly wasn't the morning I'd dress like a beauty queen.

Pushing all my weight against the reluctant suitcase, I managed to drag the zipper all the way around, and when I let go it puffed out like a bomb had gone off inside, but hadn't physically blown up the suitcase itself. Sighing in relief, I grabbed my Flyleaf hoodie from the closet, yanking it over my head, messing up my hair in the progress.

I made sure my phone was fully charged... Kinda unofficially given back to me at first, Andy had put it back where he found it, so my mom could give it back to me yesterday afternoon. An event accompanied by a lecture on responsibility that I didn't hang onto too well.

Snatching my headphones off the bedside table, I was fairly sure I was ready to go. I tied up my dark green Converse, noticing the bits of mud from the forest, still caked in the tread.

I paused thoughtfully, wondering how many eyes watched me now... It made me feel uneasy, so I shook it off, took a deep breath, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, reaching for my suitcase.

I flipped off the light switch as I made my way out of my room, closing the poster clad door behind me.

Dad was on the phone when I came down the stairs, the rumble of my suitcase clattering down each step, even on the plush carpet, stirred up some attention.

"Almost ready?" Mom called to me on her way towards the living room, checking all the rooms to be sure things were off, and okay to be left for a week. I nodded slightly, looking around the foyer for Andy. When I didn't see him immediately, nor any trace of him or his luggage, I wandered around discreetly, looking for him.

“Lose something?”

I looked up, my mom standing there with her purse over her shoulder, looking at me with a puzzled expression. I shook my head. “No.”

“Okay...” She continued to look at me uncertainly. “We're heading out now.”

I nodded, following her to the front door, wondering if Andy would turn up before we left.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and picked up my suitcase. Sending one last glance around the foyer, I sighed and followed my parents out so my dad could lock up.

As I walked down the stone path to the driveway, I recognized someone sitting in the backseat of the car. I yanked open the door to glare at him. He sat there with his feet propped up on the console, sunglasses on, flipping through an issue of Kerrang that he'd managed to get somewhere.

“Thanks for telling me you'd be here,” I muttered before my mom could overhear, tossing my backpack at him, going to the trunk to put in my suitcase.

“Are you mad?” he called to me, and I ignored him. Not because I was really mad at him, but because if I shouted "No" at nothing, while my neighbors were mowing their lawns and pissing their dogs, I might be a subject of rumors for the rest of my life.

“I heard her parents took her to California for mental treatment...” I could already hear it now.

My dad was cheerful as he approached the car, a mood I wished I could syphon from him.

As I sat down in the backseat, ending up with the left window seat, Andy rephrased his question while I buckled up.

“Are you mad?”

I shook my head, concentrating on the simple task.

“Then why won't you talk to me?”

I gestured sharply at my parents sitting in the front seat, literally a foot and a half away.

Understanding broke out across his face and he gave me a goofy grin. “Sorry... That was dumb. Anyway, where's the headphones?”

I glared at him without being obvious, wishing I could demand why he wanted them. But instead, all I could do was sulkily hand them over. He beamed, sitting up in his seat a bit to fish something out of his back pocket. It was a silver iPhone.

“Something borrowed,” he explained, shoving the headphones into the jack and powering it up. "Here." He handed me the left earbud, leaning against my shoulder so the cord would reach, careful not to get so close I'd disappear. He scrolled excitedly through his music library.

“It's been so long since I heard this stuff!” He sounded like a little kid. “Misfits, Mötley Crüe, Alkaline Trio, yessss!”

I lifted my hand to cover my mouth to prevent the muffled laughter of amusement. That would arouse some suspicion from my parents. He was so absurd that even his brooding, dark makeup and satanic clothing choices couldn't cover up the childish attitude he sometimes had. He grinned uncontrollably, trying to decide on which songs to play, finally just creating an entire playlist.

“Listen to these. They're amazing.”

I looked down at the small, dimly illuminated screen and read the familiar Misfits song title, about to say my gym teacher, Mr. Carry, sometimes played their music during our exercises and games... But once again, that would have been asylum worthy, speaking to the seat beside me as though there was someone sitting there.

As the songs continued, on shuffle, he constantly wanted feedback, questioning what I thought. All I could give him was a thumbs up, and he'd scoff, still grinning like a fool.

A few questions popped up that I wanted to ask him, but once again, the no communicating thing made it impossible. I pulled out a chapter book from my backpack, and began reading instead. Andy flipped through his Kerrang magazine, which had Alex Gaskarth and Jack Barakat from All Time Low gracing the Christmas cover.

I did notice, too, that when he was done reading that one, he leaned over the seat and pulled out another seven issues. I shot him a surprised look, and he snickered. “Just don't look, all right?”

I leaned to the side a bit to get a glance. But before I could, my dad hit a bump in the road, causing the heap, or obsessive hoard of Kerrang magazines to fan out across the backseat floor. I groaned, looking at him, trying to express the surprise and amusement I found in the situation.

“Just about every issue,” he claimed somewhat proudly, patting the seat. I noticed how embarrassed he looked by the fact.

I ripped off a corner of my book page, pulling a pen from my backpack, I scrawled a quick message:

Obsessive much?

I handed it to him, and he read it curiously. Glaring at me afterwards, flicking the piece of discarded paper at me. I picked it back up and adjusted my note, handing it back to him, which he accepted with an annoyed groan.

Don't worry, that and your Batman obsession is safe with me. :)

He narrowed his eyes this time, but said nothing. Nodding once, he tucked the slip of paper in the front pocket of his jacket.

“I'm not obsessed with Batman,” he defended, looking out his window while an Alkaline Trio song played. “I'm madly in love with him.”

“Okay...” I whispered under my breath, and he laughed, continuing to flick through his magazines happily.

When I'd gotten bored after an hour and a half of riding, I reached into my bag and pulled out my journal, flipping to the small section of pages I reserved for sketching. I looked idly out the window, trying to think of what to draw.

I'd always been an avid artist, though I didn't like calling myself that, because I felt like it was cocky to be like “Oh! I'm an artist because I can hold a pencil and doodle!”

I never drew ambitious things, though. Basically just concept sketches and such. I never really sat down and drug out all the paints to create a Mona Lisa or anything. I just drew what I felt like in the moment.

Nothing interested me right then though, and Andy's page flipping was distracting. Then I had an idea...

I angled myself against the window so he couldn't see what I was sketching, and I went to work... He fidgeted so damn much it was hard to keep things straight, so I also worked from memory.

I tried not to start grinning to make him suspicious. I didn't draw his makeup, though. Because I'd never really seen him without, it was more of a curious adventure as I tried to imagine what he looked like without it.

After I'd drawn one, cheeky smiling cartoon sketch of him, I began doodling another, and then one of the back of his fascinating Prophet jacket. It kept me occupied for a while, sketching details and shading.

I noticed when he glanced out of the corner of his eye, and saw me smirking. Instantly, he frowned. “Why do I feel like you're doing something to disrespect me?” he groaned.

“If you call this disrespect...” I whispered almost silently, trailing off, I handed him my notebook. He stuck his tongue out at me before looking at the sketch.

His expression was somewhere between shock and confusion. Baffled and speechless, he finally shut his mouth, which was dangling, stuttering for words, taken back by the cartoonish sketches in front of him.

Then his expression shifted into a flattered smile, he dramatically placed his hand over his heart as though he were about to faint, smiling fondly at the paper the way a parent does when their kid brings home a drawing of their family from school.

There was the undeniable level of pride in his eyes as he chuckled, "I had no idea I fascinated you enough to draw me."

I snorted and shoved his arm. “I'm being serious.” He laughed. “I'm really flattered, actually.” He struggled to comprehend and properly process a coherent reply.

“You don't fascinate me,” I mumbled under my voice to keep my parents from noticing. “You’re just an absurdly interesting mythical creature.”

He shrugged, still smiling, looking at the array of sketches again. “Hell, I’m just happy you got my nose right.”


	36. Wretched.

Car rides bore the crap out of me.

Sorry to be blunt, but they do. After watching half of the first season of Breaking Bad with Andy on his tiny phone screen, I was clawing at the windows, begging my parents every fifteen minutes to get out and stretch.

We’d been on the road for an hour and a half, but mind you, I’ve never been in a car this long before, bizarre as that sounds. I felt like a cat in a kennel, in the dark cargo hold of an airplane, listening to the agonized cries of the other animals aboard, about to drive myself crazy.

Andy took it upon himself to tell me pointless little stories, like the time his dad took him fishing and his shoe floated away, or the time he was almost bitten by a snapping turtle on the same stretch of river, just a different day. He recited the stories with great detail, using his hands to describe things while I sat there, listening to him.

Boredom wasn’t the only threat. I was all achy and cramped up in the little backseat of the Toyota. I hadn’t slept in a very comfortable position the night before, so all these lovely little things were coming together to make me miserable.

“Utah border!” my dad shouted abruptly, pointing seventeen yards up the stretch of cracked, sun bleached asphalt, to a wooden sign with a waving bear. In curly red font it said ‘leaving so soon?’

I almost snorted and flipped off the bear just for something to do. And rant to him that I’d spent the better part of sixteen years in Utah and he considered it ‘leaving soon’.

I sighed, marking up my irritable behavior as a mixture of stress and anxiety. Everything just annoyed me. The songs that played on the radio, the way the sun lit up my window, illuminating all the streaks left behind by a squeegee last time my dad had it washed.

I glanced back down at Andy’s screen, which he held intently, watching the characters Walter White and Jesse Pinkman try to cook meth in an RV in the middle of the desert somewhere in New Mexico.

I did enjoy the show and had seen it before, but at that moment I couldn’t get into it. I was bored, but everything that offered entertainment was boring. A terrible situation.

“Can we stop soon?” I whined again, crossing my arms pre-tantrum style. I know I’m being immature and annoying, but you know, we’ve all done it before: where you act absolutely immature and absurd just to get attention.

“Yes, Ash,” my dad replied for the third time in the last fifteen minutes, through gritted teeth.

“You’re extremely impatient.” Andy chuckled. “Remind me to never take you anywhere in a car.”

I scowled at him and sighed.

“Anyway.” He cleared his throat, but it never changed how low and deep his voice sounded. It sounded like it belonged to him, because if you just looked at him you’d expect his voice to be of a slightly higher pitch. Not this deep damn tone he always had, unless he was obnoxiously singing Disney songs in a high voice, which mind you, he did. “I have things planned. We’re hanging out later.”

“I’m visiting my Grandmother tomorrow, and traveling tonight... Where are you going?” I whispered.

“Well then, on Wednesday,” he suggested. The way he spoke made it clear, at least once during the week we were sneaking out somewhere.

“Visiting Mickey and his daughter, Eva,” I replied almost silently. It was a wonder he could hear me at all.

“Thursday,” he stated in finalism.

“I guess we’re going Thursday, then...” I mumbled, shaking my head.

“You say something, Ash?”

My dad’s hazel brown eyes caught mine in the rear-view mirror. I shook my head. “No.”

I shot a quick glare at Andy and he raised his hands in defence, reaching for his Kerrang collection again. I snagged the issue out of his hands and flipped it open, absently reading through articles about All Time Low and Pierce The Veil, just for something to do.

~~~

“Finally!” I wailed excitedly, pushing open my door before my dad had even put the car in park. I jumped out onto the asphalt, spreading my arms, standing in the parking lot of a Maverick store, just off our beaten trail. People using the Redbox machines turned to stare at me in confusion and concern.

Andy stood on the sidewalk, scratching his neck, looking uncomfortable watching me stand in the middle of the parking lot, yelling like a freak.

“Maybe you should move so that car can park.” He pointed behind me, where a beaten up minivan sat, half curved into the parking spot. I scowled at the driver and reluctantly got out of the way.

“You’re a real joy kill,” I muttered, shoving his arm.

“You’re violent,” he commented cheerfully, following me inside.

“I’m irritated,” I corrected him.

“Well... You shove me a lot for an irritated person,” he said with a shrug. I almost shoved him again, but people were looking, and a few looked pretty concerned for my mental health.

“Today is May first,” Andy suddenly stated in a fond tone, and I followed his gaze to the calendar behind the counter, where a burly woman with tattoos, piercings and neon pink hair stood, scowling at us. Well, me. I flinched away, going to stand out of sight behind a chip rack to speak to Andy in private.

“So?”

“It’s almost been a month,” he replied almost cheerfully. “Hang on, I’d like to have a normal conversation.”

A teenage girl who’d been standing in line behind her parents to be checked out looked at me, but just slightly to my left, and the undeniable look of interest took over her expression.

“You’re visible, aren’t you?” I muttered in a flat, unamused tone. He chuckled, and waved at the girl. She looked awe stricken.

“What if my parents see you? What then? They know what you look like.” I put my hands on my hips, impatiently watching him, waiting for him to reply.

“They’re more occupied with buying the whole rack of dehydrated fruit and nuts, if you haven’t noticed.” He pointed to the far end of the store where, sure enough, my parents, like health freaks, were comparing two different bags of healthy snacks. I groaned.

“Anyway, it’s nice for me to streeetttccchhh every now and again.” He wasn’t even talking to me. He stretched out his long, pale, inked arms, winking and nodding at the girl that didn’t look any older than thirteen.

“You’re a sicko,” I muttered, shaking my head. I looked away in embarrassment, hoping it’d make me look less like I was actually with him, rather than just standing here on my own.

He ignored me and continued to mess with the girl’s head, visually flirting with her through a series of nods and winks, before her parents turned around and saw the prominent bright pink blush gracing her cheeks and looked to see Andy. Her father, who I might add looked like a burly pack of muscles straight out of the army, glared at Andy with cold blue eyes. Andy smiled sheepishly in return, holding up his hands in defence as he backed out of view.

“He would have kicked your ass,” I told him, going to grab a bottle of Pepsi from the fridge, adding it into my impressive collection of snacks for the road. Andy tossed in an assortment of other things, then smiled mischievously, taking everything from his arms.

“What else do you want?”

“What do you mean?” I narrowed my eyes at him. I had to look up a way, since he was built like a skinny giant. His grin just kept growing.

“No! We’re not shop lifting!” I hissed under my breath.

“Fine.” He groaned in exasperation. “You’re not, I am.” He dropped my items back into my arms, and as though he turned into a bat and flew away, he was invisible.

“Andy!” I hissed after him, but there was no trace. I groaned, and went to regroup with my parents, who had finally, or were getting close to, making a decision.

I tapped the toe of my Converse against the store tile impatiently, when I heard the crinkle of a chip bag. Looking to my right, Andy stood there proudly, holding one of his steals, happily licking his fingers clean of orange Cheeto dust.

“You disgust me.” I sighed, shaking my head.

He licked his thumb, and smeared it across my cheek. It took everything, everything, not to cry out and strangle him right then. I had to stand there acting perfectly normal, while this jackass in makeup smeared his spit covered, Cheeto dust matted finger across my face, leaving behind a slimy orange trail.

“Do I?” he wondered innocently.

I grabbed a napkin out of the breakfast foods area and scrubbed it off, but I could still feel where it had been.

“Great thing about being a ghost is everything about me is like unicorns and rainbows,” he claimed cheerfully. I glared at him out of the corner of my eye.

“My spit does not actually consist of germs, if that makes you happy.”

“I’m not sure how that makes this any better.” I sighed, shaking my head, tossing the napkin in a nearby trashcan. “If anything, it only makes me want to link you to a lost race of mythical creatures like Bigfoot and the chupacabra.”

My insult knocked him down a few pegs, and I walked away to find my parents while he tried to muster up something else to say. Finally he sighed heavily, smacking his hands against his legs in defeat. “I’ve got nothing.”

My parents were discussing further travel plans while they stood in line. Andy took it upon himself to pull out his pack of cigarettes and coolly light one up in the middle of the store. He blew smoke rings at the burly cashier woman, who looked about as irritable as a bear freshly out of hibernation. Her every breath was an exasperated grunt, and her glare was far from friendly.

“So I was thinking... And I’ve looked into it. The Berkeley Community College dorms are seven blocks from the hotel you’re staying in. And... If you don’t mind, there’s someone I want to visit.”

“You are going to be visible, right?” I whispered back. “So I don’t have to pull out an Oujia board and pretend to summon you?”

He laughed. “That’d be a great ice breaker.”

“And a great way to get me thrown into a mental asylum...” I grumbled.

“True,” he agreed thoughtfully.

I took my items once they'd been rung up and stood aside, shoving a muffin in a plastic wrapper in Andy's face with a proud grin. “I paid for my food!”

He didn’t look at me. Instead, he nudged me and pointed. I turned, and this guy was watching me carefully, his confused expression slightly amused. Oh God... He had to be good looking, too.... Dammit.

The guy had the looks of Kellin Quinn and was super tall, dressed kinda like Andy, with a black v-neck tee and skinny jeans. He was the first to look away, when my flustered, embarrassed face, frozen in horror, scared him off. I heaved an embarrassed sigh, and pinched his arm.

“Come on...” I grumbled, stalking out the door, almost excited to get back in the car, and as far from here as possible. Chances were Andy wouldn’t let me live this down, ever... He’d bring it up all the time... The way I brought up his obsession with Batman.


	37. Divine.

“All right, you’ve gotta see this...”

I glanced over at Andy and watched him curiously while I picked apart one of the muffins I’d bought. He reached over to his own ‘entertainment’ pack, pulling out a bulky, rather old looking book. Only when he flipped it over and the cover displayed a cheerful family reunion photo from the early nineties, did I realize it was one of his family photo books.

“You seemed to get a kick out of these at the funeral...” He sighed, pointing at the cover photo, to a baby dressed like an elf. “Baby Andrew,” he told me flatly. “My mom and my aunt Nancy used to dress me up all the time.” He rolled his eyes. “Since I was the oldest and, at the time, only heir to the Biersack throne, they pampered me with shit like this. Being a special kid is not what it seems.” He shook his head firmly, pursing his lips, flipping the page to another photo.

This one had two toddlers playing in a sandbox together. One had sandy blonde hair, and the other one had light brown. I could only tell it was Andy because of his eye color.

“That would be my cousin Joe.” He tapped the photo fondly. “Did you know he has a Youtube web series? You should watch it sometime.”

I was smiling in fascination and amusement as he flipped through the pages. It still plagued me why he bothered... I mean, it annoyed him at the funeral, and now he was openly showing me his embarrassing childhood photos.

“Here we go!”

He opened the middle page with a grin. “This is the one I wanted to show you...”

[PICTURE GOES HERE.]

I grinned, and covered my mouth.

“I knew you’d laugh!”

I looked at the photo, taken of Andy in his late teen years, with a heap of Batman memorabilia on the floor in front of him. Although his expression was somber, he was proud.

“I’m glad I’ve never seen your room...” I whispered. “It’s probably remodelled to look like the BatCave.”

He rolled his eyes and snapped the album shut. “We’ve seen all we needed to.” He smiled crookedly as he tucked it away in his backpack again.

“Why did you bring that?” I whispered, and his expression was thoughtful, reflecting, as he looked at his hands, chipping away old black nail polish from his nails.

“I’m not sure, really... Being in Pendant after everything has made it feel like a big, endless dream. Like reality and fate hasn’t set in yet... I haven’t realized, or at least, understood yet that I’m dead. I guess part of why I need to get back to California so bad is to get my closure. It was that to me the first time, when Pendant was my poison, making me self destructive. So vice versa.” He shrugged his shoulders a little bit.

I wasn't sure how to reply to that... What he was seeking could only be found in California. Where it wasn't a dream land and he'd be faced with a harsh reality.

He handed me one of the headphones again, and resumed the music. After a while of staring out the windows thoughtfully, I passed out.

~~~

I was awoken by my mother's soft voice, and a gentle shake of my shoulder.

“Ash, honey, we’re at the hotel.”

My eyes opened, and I slowly got back my bearings, realizing quickly how dark it was.

“How long was I asleep?” I mumbled tiredly, trying to wake myself up while I dug around in the dark backseat for my stuff.

“Roughly three hours.” She chuckled, grabbing my backpack for me, handing it to me when I could stand upright on level ground. I sighed, taking it from her, pulling my hoodie tighter around my arms since there was a cool chill to the air.

“Where are we?” I wondered, looking across the parking lot at a dimly lit, shady looking motel with a vacancy sign hanging, crooked and faded in the front window.

She looked around us cautiously as I gathered my luggage from the trunk. “Some little town on the lower corner of Nevada. Crownskale or something, I think.”

I nodded, slowly processing these facts.

“We’ll grab breakfast before we leave tomorrow. Should be to Berkeley by noon, thank God. I’m so sick of riding.” She laughed, slamming the trunk shut and locking it. Just then I realized what I was missing, and spun around searching the car, but he was nowhere to be seen. I groaned under my breath, sick of his random disappearances.

I gripped the straps of my backpack tighter and followed my mom towards the front door.

Inside was a moth eaten couch in a small lobby area, with a TV on a small stand, still rocking a pair of rabbit ears, the Christmas Vacation film playing even though we had a long time until December. I looked towards the desk, where a thickly built man stood, arms dressed in matching tattoo sleeves, a handlebar mustache, and an American flag bandana holding back his long dreadlocked hair. I avoided his gaze and hurried towards the hall.

“Well shit... There’s crazy people left and right.”

I jumped at the sound of his voice, and prayed my mom hadn’t noticed. I glanced discreetly to my left where he walked, his leather combat boots silent, his attention elsewhere as he juggled two cigarette cartons in the air with a crooked, distracted smile.

“I went to get a new pack,” he explained, tossing them both into the air at the same time, catching them, and shoving them into his jacket pockets. “Well, stole them, technically. But the broad I got them from was going to keel over if she huffed another, so I figure I did her a service.”

I stopped walking abruptly when I noticed something different about him... Outstandingly different. He gave me a puzzled look and nudged me forward before my mom noticed my obvious awkwardness.

We got to our room and she unlocked the door. Dad was already in his night pants, watching TV with a distant, tired gaze. I excused myself, yanking Andy into the small bathroom, fiddling with the lock before facing him in horror.

“Your hair!”

“You like it?” He grinned, reaching up to curl it around his fingers.

I was shocked, looking up at it. “When did you do that?!” I hissed.

His hair, which had been shaved on one side of his head and long and shaggy on the other, constantly in his eyes was now shorter, more of a mohawk than anything. And more shocking still, it was light brown now.

“It’s my natural hair color,” he told me proudly, sticking out his chest a bit.

“How did you get it that way? It was black literally a few hours ago... Please... Please tell me this isn’t some weird shape-shifting ghost thing you can do.” I sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of my nose, too far out of it to properly comprehend the situation.

“Pssh, no.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I dyed it... And cut it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him slightly. “You dyed your hair to your natural hair color?”

He looked at me as though I were missing something very obvious.

“What?” I wondered after a few silent moments.

“If you haven’t noticed...” He began by chuckling, and I sighed, realizing I’d probably just made a statement that went against all the ghost world laws of logic.

“When I died, I resumed the form I died in. Frozen in time. I cannot age, I cannot change. My hair will not change color and it will not grow.”

“But you cut your hair,” I reminded him in confusion.

“I’m comfortable with having it this short.” He shrugged.

“For eternity?”

“Sure.”

“But what if you want it back?”

“I buy hair extensions then... Look, I’ve never been one to plan things out a whole lot. Half of my tattoos? They’re spur of the moment mistakes, but I love them all.”

“I’m not sure having short hair is the same thing as having tattoos...”

“Anyway!” he interrupted me with an excited hand gesture, grabbing my shoulders, looking into my eyes excitedly. “I’m all ready for my role tomorrow.”

“Role?”

“You’ll see.”

“Please don’t do anything I have to explain?” I sighed, switching my weight from one foot to the other anxiously.

“I won’t. I promise.”

He held out his hand, and I was confused at first, until I recognized the gesture. His hand formed in a fist, pinkie extended. “This is awkward...” he whispered after I stood there staring at his hands for a few seconds past my welcome.

“Oh, sorry... It’s just been a long time since I pinkie swore anything... Last time was kindergarten, I think.” I reached out and wrapped my pinkie around his, and we shook once firmly. He smirked and dropped his hand.

“There’s still a lot of driving to be done tomorrow. You should go to bed. I need to, too... Because I used up a lot of my ghostly energy today.” He yawned, and slipped from the bathroom. I sighed and hung my head back, looking up at the fluorescents. The dead bugs caught in the light fixture, and the few live ones beating around the plastic enclosure.

“What in the world is going to happen tomorrow?” I murmured to myself, shaking my head before moving to wash my face with the questionable water from the leaky faucet, opting to dry my hands and face on the towel I brought instead of the white towels piled on the edge of the counter, with small rust colored stains in the plush fabric.

I didn’t spend a whole lot of time in the bathroom. I just brushed through my hair quickly, brushed my teeth and changed into my pyjama shorts before flipping off the light and stepping into the bedroom.

Andy was already asleep from the looks of it, spread out in the maroon colored reclining chair under the front window, the curtains drawn, but between the slats I could still see the invasive streetlights.

My dad was asleep, and my mom was getting her stuff together for a shower, but after taking a look at the bathroom, she came back with a disgusted look, shaking her head.

“Well... We’re going to the hotel before lunch tomorrow... I’ll just shower then.”

“Place is gross,” I commented with a tired laugh, sitting on the end of the bed. Within a few more minutes, I had curled up in the lumpy pillows, popping in my headphones, scrolling through my music for something to listen to while I dosed off. I had rarely slept anywhere else than my own bed, so this was bound to be an adventure.

Setting on a Bring Me The Horizon album, I placed it on shuffle and closed my eyes, relaxing into the blankets even though they smelled strongly of cheap detergent and sweat.

Ignoring that, I got sucked up into the beautiful sound of Hospital For Souls, and fell into a fitful, almost dreamless sleep. I say almost, because that night I was plagued with a nightmare...


	38. Sunlight.

There was too much activity and movement for my groggy, sleep deprived mind to handle. I could hear the muffled sound of a news reporter on the TV droning on, and the quiet screech of zippers being pulled shut on my parents’ suitcases.

I wallowed in my oddly scented pillows and blankets, hands curling out at odd angles, trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy mattress. But in the end, all I probably took away from sleeping in that room was bedbugs.

But it wasn’t all that noise that woke me up completely, but the deep sound of someone’s voice singing Alkaline Trio.

I glared out from under my pillow, which I had pulled across my face in an attempt to keep out the sunlight and noise. Andy stood distracted in front of the full body mirror beside the TV, rocking back and forth on his heels, singing absently, looking at his reflection while he casually sipped coffee from a foam cup.

Groaning, I rolled onto my back completely and tossed off the pillow. My parents were preoccupied with packing, drinking coffee and discussing the day’s plans. Looking at the clock, it was only 6:30.

“- We’ll be to Berkeley by noon. Then we can pick up Grandma Evelyn, and take her out to lunch. We won’t have a lot of time for visiting people, but I figure if we space things out, we should be able to see everyone. Evelyn today, Mickey and his daughter tomorrow, Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Roger on Thursday, Grandma and Grandpa Hillger and the cousins on Friday. Not a lot of time for sightseeing this time around.” My mother sighed, neatly folding her floral blouse, placing it back in her suitcase.

“Well, we’ll be making our way back to California in a couple weeks again, assuming things go as planned,” my dad replied, double checking his things before zipping his case shut.

“Asheen!” my mother sang as she passed my bed. “Get up or we’ll go on without you.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad...” I grumbled under my breath, slowly making my way to my feet, going to get my bag and dragging it into the bathroom.

“Make sure you have a dress to change into later, we’re going out to lunch with your Grandma Evelyn,” my mother called through the door.

“Yep...” I sighed, shuffling though the random assortment of clothing I’d packed yesterday in my sleepy morning stupor. There were band shirts, shirts with stains, tank tops, mostly jeans and shorts, and the one dress I packed. I made a mental note of where it’d be for later, opting to wear a pair of white-wash blue jeans with a turquoise tank top.

Grabbing my things, I joined my parents and Andy, who were almost ready to go.

Andy threw back the last of this coffee, winced, and tossed his cup into the trash can. “I’ll be in the car,” he told me, straightening his Prophet jacket and heading out the door.

It still shocked me when I thought about it... My best friend is a ghost. A peculiar, unusual ghost with a fascinating personality. Though in the last few days that he’d technically been ‘back’, we poked and prodded at each other more than anything, with snippy comments and jokes... We hadn’t had a legitimately heartfelt conversation since our last argument... It just felt like neither of us knew what to say about it.... To me, what he’d done was wrong, but to him, he was doing some civilian service by staying here, spying on me for a week.

Just thinking about it sparked annoyance and betrayal into me again. I sighed, picking up my suitcases to take them out to the car. But to get there required walking through the lobby, where the creepy receptionist waited. Part of me wanted to wait on my parents, the other half just wanted to get to the car, to talk to Andy in peace for a few moments before we’d have to endure another few hours of silence and hand signals.

Luckily, no one was at the counter when I walked through the lobby, but I could hear him on the phone in the back room. When I caught a whiff of what his conversation was about, I walked faster.

Now I’m sure Crownskale is a nice little retirement town and all, but this particular hotel I had no intentions of returning to, and just being within it gave me a grossed out feeling, like no matter how much of the unsanitary water you splashed on your face and scrubbed your skin with, you were just surrounded by filth.

I pushed up the sleeves of my hoodie as I made my way outside and across the parking lot. The day was warmer, the sun already heating the town in a low boil, and by noon, not a person would be on the streets because they’d scorch if they stayed outside too long. I bet there’s a good market for sunscreen here...

Throwing my bags in the trunk, after unlocking it with the key set my Dad handed me on the way out, I went to find Andy. He sat in the backseat with the headphones in his ears, volume loud enough to tell he was listening to Misfits.

“We need to talk.” I sighed, looking over my shoulder to make sure we were still alone, trying to gauge how much time we had to talk before my parents showed up.

He looked at me in confusion, but paused his music anyway, pulling the headphones from his ears. He waited for me to speak. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk through some things,” I told him reluctantly, looking down at my hands. “The past few days of having you back have been great, but there’s just some things we need to talk through. We don’t have time right now, but later... I’m just letting you know.”

“Warning me that you’ll be bitching me out?”

“I’ll try not to, jackass,” I joked with a sigh, climbing into the backseat to wait for my parents to finish checking out.

“I eavesdropped,” he clarified after a moment. I shot him a confused look.

“Yeah? Seems you’re pretty good at that now.”

“Don’t make fun of my predicament,” he replied with a frown. “Anyway, you’re having lunch with your Grandmother today, correct?”

“Yes?”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“Please...” I begged with an exasperated sigh. “Please don’t do something weird.”

“Psh, do something weird? That’s ridiculous,” he said dismissively. “This is more experimental.”

“Really?” I asked sarcastically. “Because if I do remember, sneaking out at night to paint your body with face paint was also experimental, and we both know how normal that was.”

He snorted, dropping the conversation as my parents approached the car, voices muted by the car doors.

Already things felt like a repetitive loop. They got in, told me we were getting breakfast at McDonald’s on the way out of town, but I tuned out most of it... I was just getting tired of coming up with replies.

The drive was uneventful. I spent the majority of it either sharing muffins and Pringles with Andy while we watched The Mortal Instruments on my laptop, listening to music, and sleeping. Andy slept for a while and snored horrifically, sounding like a grizzly bear in the backseat.

For a while I just sketched aimlessly, glancing out the car windows again, an unfamiliar artist playing through my headphones. We were a half hour outside of California, with another hour drive to my Grandma’s house in Berkeley.

When we drove past a clique of girls walking alongside the road as we passed through another Bed & Breakfast town, it reminded me of home. Sitting by the window, girls like them would walk my street every now and again. Low cut shirts and short shorts seemed to be the only fashion they understood. 75% of them had their noses to the screen of their phones, while that last 25% was whining about some drama that was taking place in our school.

Even before things had changed, I wasn’t a super social person. I kept to myself for the most part and was always polite. That’s what’s expected of you if you live on the small side of Pendant, go to church on Sundays and have two perfect parents with perfect jobs. It was almost the equivalent of being a pastor’s daughter.

Though, by now, you’d think everyone understood the meaning of the quote “nobody’s perfect.” Because last summer, our pastor’s daughter did get knocked up and it caused quite a commotion in the community. It was new drama for the otherwise very kind and friendly townspeople to swirl around and blow out of proportion.

And when it did, I remember just hearing they moved away. Packed up and moved for Idaho. And the following Sunday, he’d been replaced by Pastor Davis as though nothing had ever happened, and like childish brats, no one even breathed Pastor Frank’s name again, maybe because they thought it was sinful to associate with him or something because of an unholy act his daughter had committed. Which just goes to show how rotten the world has become. Even the finest of minds are corrupt if given the chance to show their true colors.

Pendant was an otherwise calm, sweet little town, if you did like my dad did and avoided the actual city part of it, remaining in the isolated small town on the other side of the river, because the people who’ve been here since dirt are too scared to venture out and see the rest of the city where they’ve squandered half of their lives, most likely working register jobs and mechanic positions.

When things become too straight forward, it’s easy to see which way the wind is blowing, and the main force behind all the tales I just mentioned is fear. fear Fear keeps people from exploring; fear keeps people from associating with those who have done wrong; fear keeps people isolated.

And now I wonder... If fear is what has consumed me.


	39. California.

My dad let out a sound similar to a victorious war hoot as we entered the city limits of Berkeley. And truth be told, no matter how excited he was for this trip, he did not enjoy the drive. Because like me, he hadn’t really been out of the state on an actual roadtrip in over sixteen years. The last time I remember him really going anywhere was when I was six years old. He flew out to New York for a contractor’s convention with Micky, his boss and a few other co-workers.

I was just excited to escape the car, because the feeling of a suffocating cat was coming back to me. I had already made plans to sprint happily to the hotel the second we were in park.

Even though California did not feel like my cup of tea, it did offer a lot of inspiring music directions, just as it had to all those before me. I’d have some spare time to sit on the beach and write, rather than being cooped up in my small, dark room.

I shook Andy’s shoulder, and as he gained awareness, he grinned. “We’re finally fucking here!” he shouted, slamming his hands against the car windows.

“We’ll go to the hotel first, settle in and freshen up before we go pick up Evelyn,” Dad said as he made a right turn at an intersection. I leaned to the side in my seat, looking out the car window at the wide, cloudless sky. It was the deepest blue, which made me smile because it reminded me of home.

We passed business parks and apartment buildings, and the deeper into the city we got, the more the town rose up around us, with spires of department stores and skyscrapers. It felt like the busy side of Pendant, which made me wonder how long it’d fly with Dad for.

We parked in front of a six story Holiday Inn, its front doors shrouded by decorative hedge animals shaped like lions.

“To the kingdom, lions guarding castle walls...” Andy sang under his breath, I looked at him for an explanation, but he didn’t catch my gaze.

Shrugging it off, I looked back up at what would be our abode for the next couple days. Mom and Dad got out to go and book our room, and I climbed out to stretch, overly grateful to finally be done driving for a few days. We still had the trip back, which was bound to be just as boring, but for now we had three and a half days until we left. That was time to explore, shop, check out the beaches and meet new people.

Dad [d]did say that California was rich in music culture, which meant there was a pretty good chance of meeting some likeminded individuals who liked the same music I did.

Okay.... So, maybe California isn’t as bad as I originally thought. But as soon as I started to realize I might like it here, I reminded myself, no more Apture, no more home, no more CC, Jake or Jinxx... And instantly, I was cured. As though I’d woken from a bad dream, I shook my head, disgusted I had even considered liking it here.

“Well, it’s just as hot as I remember,” Andy mumbled at my side, a cigarette in his mouth while he dug through his pockets for a lighter. “That’s one of the unmistakable things about California, is the heat. You don’t forget how you sweat out twice your weight in water here.” He finally found the small silver Zippo lighter he’d had since we met, and lit up his nicotine death stick. Not that it really mattered what effect it had on his body at this point...

“As predicted, we’re close to the community college dorms...” He rubbed his hands together anxiously, looking in the direction the dorms he must’ve resided in.

“Why me? If my parents wake up and find me missing here, they’re not going to take it as easy as they did at home. Because a number of things could happen to me here.”

“Abduction? Rape? Murder? Sorry to burst your bubble, but those things are everywhere. Always have been. Only difference is that you’re more comfortable in Pendant than here, making it seem far and few between the chances of it actually happening to you at home.” He took a long drag of his cigarette before thoughtfully tapping it against the bumper of the car parked beside us. “Besides, you already agreed to help me with this.”

“When did I say that?!”

“It’s part of the unwritten contract of a ghost/human friendship,” he replied with a cocky smile, putting on his douchebag sunglasses again, just as he had days before.

“Hey, wait!” I called him out, and he paused his smoking for a moment in confusion. “You said you can’t grow your hair, your spit is unicorns and rainbows, just like your tears and sweat, you don’t actually have to breathe, so what effect does the sun have on your eyes?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Uh...”

“You wear those damn sunglasses when you’re avoiding conversations,” I continued with a narrowing glare.

“No,” he corrected, clearing his throat once he’d finally come up with some sort of suitable excuse. “You’re right, I don’t need to wear them, but I do because... Well... Who are we kidding? I look good in them.” He pushed them further up his nose, another cheeky smile blown my way before he continued to finish off his cigarette, which had burned down considerably during our exchange.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, leaning back against the car, crossing my arms, the breeze blowing strands of green into my eyes. I watched the front doors of the hotel, waiting for my parents to come back.

~~~

Dragging my suitcase and backpack towards the conveniently placed elevator was a task in itself. The receptionists watched me with pitiful eyes as I drug my packed-to-exploding-danger suitcase across the floral print commercial carpet of the lobby.

A man reading a newspaper in the breakfast bar area looked up over his glasses and crumpled paper to watch my slow progress.

“Did you pack rocks? I don’t remember you struggling that much last night...” my mom said in concern, easily able to carry her case with one hand. I waved off her concern.

“No, no, I think I know what made it so heavy.”

I was glad she didn’t pry on it, because how would I explain to her that chances were my ghostly buddy stored his entire wardrobe in my suitcase, too. At what point he made the exchange, I have no clue. I sighed and kept pulling it until Andy’s throaty laugh rose from behind me.

“Want help?”

I fought the urge to glare up at him. He picked it up easily, smirking, eyes invisible behind the thick black shades. “Make it look like you’re carrying it,” he said.

I lined it up with my left side, wrapping my hand around the handle. I sighed in fake relief, backed by annoyance. “Oh, there we go,” I told my Mom. She watched me in concern for another moment before nodding, and extending something towards me. I recognized it as a hotel room card.

“We got separate rooms this week. Figured you’d like your space.” She smiled at me, and so did my dad. I accepted it in confusion.

“Really? This isn’t a trick or something?” I wondered, turning it over in the palm of my hand.

They shook their heads and smiled. “Your room is 120. A floor above ours, unfortunately. They were pretty booked up this week so we couldn’t get two together, but they said the view from the top floor is glorious, so that should make up for it.... Meet us back here at 12:00, please. And make sure you wear a dress! We’re going to The Rose Garden.”

I enclosed the key tightly in my hand, nodding, I yanked Andy and our suitcase of rocks along into the elevator, where he hit the sixth floor button, sending us up with a series of rumbles going on around us.

“Well, that certainly makes sneaking out easier,” he breathed in relief.

“You can’t be serious!” I exclaimed in disbelief. “You still want me to sneak out, Jesus...” I groaned.

“Why is this such a problem?” he wondered with a wide grin.

“I don’t know Berkeley like the back of my hand!” I cried in exasperation and annoyance, but his response was a happy chuckle.

“Lucky for you, I do. Just like the trip to the school. To, from, and maybe some singing and storytelling on the way.”

The double doors opened onto the sixth floor, and I just let him handle the suitcase, since he had an abundance of strength.

“Wait!” I stopped him again. He stopped walking. and propped his weight against the suitcase, pursing his lips patiently.

“You have plenty of strength you fucking liar. You told me that night we went to the school you couldn’t even handle digging up the box!”

“Uh, hey, um...” He scratched the back of his neck uneasily. I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. “Seems to me you’re almost human... What limits are there for you? You can still be visible and do anything you want! And you don’t even have the commitments of dragging a body around.”

“I’ll tell you about it someday,” he concluded, sensing our conversation was over. He took the suitcase and headed down the hall.

“Why not today?” I demanded, catching up to him quickly. “Can’t you trust me?”

“Can’t you trust that I’ll tell you when I’m ready?” he replied uncomfortably, still making his way down the hall.

I stopped walking, and something clicked. This trip... The photo albums, all the memory lane trips he wanted to make...

“You’re trying to resurrect yourself....” I whispered in shock. He stopped walking and turned around, his face unbelieving.

“Nope,” he simply replied, stopping in front of a door. He held his hand out for the key. I handed it to him and he popped it in the lock, waiting for the door to recognize it.

“Well... When will you explain what all of this is about?”

“Soon.”

“Andy!”

“I’m being serious.” He shook his head, pulling off his sunglasses, tucking them neatly on the front of his shirt. I took a moment to adjust to his hair color again. “I will tell you soon. Just be patient, okay?”

I hesitated a few moments before reluctantly agreeing. “Okay.”

“Well...” He sighed, turning the handle. “Welcome to your week home.” He pushed open the door, and I was blinded by bright, California sunlight.


	40. Ribcage.

It took me a moment to realize that the room was made up of mostly windows, and that was why it was so bright. Thick burgundy drapes were pulled back from the glass, revealing a stunning view of the cityscape, and further out, the east bay.

I drifted away from Andy to go stand in front of the glass, mesmerized like a small child looking up at a giraffe while visiting the zoo. I was completely captivated by the scene that could never be recreated in Pendant, no matter how sacred my hometown was to me.

I didn’t dramatically place my hands on the glass or anything like that. I just stood there, perplexed by the incredible view.

“Know what my view was at the dorms?” Andy asked unenthusiastically.

“What?”

“I had a view of a dumpster, and every morning this old man would stand out there in his robe, collecting old newspapers. Not exactly the sight you want to see while eating breakfast first thing in the morning.” He sighed in disgust, walking away from the window. He casually explored the hotel room, then turned on the TV, leaving it as a background noise while he opened my suitcase and pulled out his collection of belongings.

“I thought you had your own suitcase?”

“I do. But this was just more convenient.” He shrugged, examining one of his band shirts before setting it aside for the day.

“Seems more like a way for you to go through my shit...” I muttered in embarrassment, dragging the suitcase away from him across the bedspread, leaving a wrinkled trail in the fabric. I pulled out the blue and white striped summer dress and found my sandals at the bottom, taking them and my makeup bag to the bathroom to change.

I took a quick shower, since I’d neglected it earlier that morning at the hotel in Crownskale. Changing quickly, I leaned over the sink to apply my eyeliner and eyeshadow slowly, leaving out the eyeliner for Andy whenever he got around to redoing his own makeup.

“I haven’t seen my Grandma since I was eleven,” I stated as I walked back into the room. “She and part of the family came to visit us for Easter, and that included the twins, my cousins, Daryl and Danny, both troublemakers. Both twenty now." I sorted out my things for the day, checking to see if my phone was charged up.

“We had an egg hunt for all us kids, even the older ones, and Daryl and Danny were the oldest out of all of us, so they kinda got away with some stuff when no one was looking.... And back then, we used actual hardboiled eggs, not the plastic shells.” I plugged my charger into the wall as I spoke, plugging it into the bottom of my phone.

“I feel like this story is about to go horribly wrong...” Andy sighed from across the room, tossing two wadded up sheets of hotel stationary into the air, trying to juggle them.

I laughed. “It does,” I confirmed. “My parents, Grandmother, aunts and uncles, none of them were really paying much attention to us during the egg hunt. Mostly because right then, our neighbors randomly came over to borrow some sugar. So yeah, it turned into a free-for-all death-match... Daryl and Danny stole all the eggs from the younger kids and hid out in the treehouse, and as kids climbed the ladder to get them back, they were dropping hardboiled eggs on our heads.” I sighed and smiled fondly, zipping my suitcase shut. “Countless heads of perfect Sunday curls ruined by chunks of egg shell and rubbery egg whites. And when we told on them, all my aunt and uncle did was scold them and tell us to play nice.”

“Family is great, ain’t they?” he chuckled sarcastically, running his hands through his short brown hair. He looked at himself fondly in the mirror, smoothing his hair up into a mindless mohawk.

I scoffed. “Oh, definitely. Did you ever have any experiences like that?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t? My cousins, Eliza and Sarah, came to spend the night one time – this was back in Ohio, by the way. Anyway, they were so sweet when my parents were around. Like, sickeningly sweet with the manners and all, and every chance they got, they threw me and the other boy cousins under the bus. I mean, they were pure evil!” He shook his head incredulously.

“They deliberately went out into the backyard after a rainstorm, picked up handfuls of dirt and smeared it down the front of their dresses and got it in their hair, then went inside and cried to my parents that we’d shoved them into a puddle.”

I winced, grateful I’d never been graced with bratty cousins, just jerk twins.

“We didn’t see them for a long time after that. Actually, the last time I did see them in person was at our family reunion six years ago. It was before my weird emo phase. And they did apologize for being bitches and all, but y’know, after you have to put up with that your whole childhood, you’re kinda hesitant to forgive.”

I looked down at my suitcase in deep thought, and posed a question on him. “You said... The last time you saw them in person was at the reunion... Did they come to the...”

He abruptly laughed, and I constantly had to remind myself how light-hearted he often was about being deceased. “You can say it, it doesn’t bother me.”

“I know...” I mumbled in embarrassment, “But it bothers me.”

He gave me a puzzled expression. “How so?”

“Haven’t you really thought about it?” I hedged sheepishly, trying to tread lightly not to hurt his feelings. “You’re a ghost, and you’re my best friend. I have to imagine you’re dead, all the time. I can’t tell anyone about you... It’s almost like you’re imaginary. It’s so weird for me to refer to your last family reunion as your funeral.”

He became thoughtful, and not at all hurt, at least from what I could tell. “Then don’t refer to it as my funeral if it makes you uncomfortable. I get that everyone has a different approach to things. Like I’m at ease for the most part about it, and it makes me feel better to joke about it and be open to it. Some people are just more closed off.” He shrugged.

I felt a pang of involuntary annoyance. “What do you mean by that?” I wondered, crossing my arms before me patiently.

“You’re more likely to tell me about a memory than something really personal to you,” he explained. “You’ve never been completely open to me about things, and you tend to dodge questions you don’t want to answer. You act very uncomfortable discussing certain topics, like the things you write in your journal.”

I stiffened, and it clicked into place. As far as Andy was aware, from my point of view, he only knew I wrote song lyrics in there... How else could he know there was more unless...

“You read it?” I accused him in a low voice, and his blue eyes widened in surprise when he realized he’d slipped up.

“That’s why you’ve been treating me differently since you got back, isn’t it?” I jabbed a finger at him and narrowed my eyes. “So what I can’t tell you, you’ll just read anyway?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized genuinely. “It was an accident.”

“Accident.” I scoffed, crossing my arms, feeling my cheeks burning pink in embarrassment, thinking about all the very personal things I’d written in that journal.

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “You left it open one day, and I thought it was a book.”

“Even though it was handwritten and you’d seen the book before....” I deadpanned with a glare.

He frowned, realizing he’d been caught. I exhaled heavily and sat on the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands, but it didn’t take away the suffocating feeling.

“At least tell me what you read,” I mumbled reluctantly, refusing to look at him in fear my eyes would betray everything I felt right then.

“Only some lyrics and the entry about how you view yourself... I didn’t think you felt like that,” he added conversationally, but I ignored him.

“You were so kind and sweet, the girl in pretty summer dresses coming home from church the day I met you. Have you always felt like this?”

I sighed a little. “Every now and again.”

“Have you ever... Self harmed?”

“Absolutely not.” I shook my head, still refusing to look at him. “I never felt like I needed to, and I never wanted to. I just have always loathed myself, in a way. I mean, by most standards, I am perfect. I go to church, dress like a girl instead of a tom-boy, wore makeup, was always kind, but no one ever really saw that in me. At school, no matter how hard I tried, no one really looked at me, or really saw me, for me. They’d call you out in gym because you were fast or whatever, but none of them would just come up to you and talk. I was, am and always will be, indefinitely lonely.”

“Are you lonely now?”

“How do you want me to answer that?” I whispered, my throat tightening with emotion and the tears that were threatening to come and destroy my makeup.

He didn’t answer, but I could feel the tension between us.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Don’t be,” he replied, his voice tense. “You should finish getting ready, it’s almost noon.”

I felt his weight disappear from the bed and I looked over my shoulder, but the room was empty and he was gone... Again. I took a deep breath and wiped the unshed tears from the corners of my eyes, mentally telling myself to keep it together while I dragged myself from the mattress, to the end of the bed, where my sandals and purse waited. I grabbed them, put them on absently, my head swimming with all these concerns and fears.


	41. Between.

I locked up the hotel room on my way out. The hallways were empty, but humming with voices from the other rooms.

Pulling my purse strap up on my shoulder, I pushed on, sighing in discontent while I struggled to appear normal and un-phased by the time I reached the lobby.

I was beyond relieved Andy was back, but I couldn't find level ground with him anymore. It was so strange... I was grateful for him, but after our fight, I wondered how he felt and wondered where he was.

My parents found me before he did, though. Dad bumped into me in the hallway just outside the large lobby area, and chatted animatedly about the day's plans while we headed back to find Mom.

“Something wrong?”

I shook my head. “No, just tired...” I sighed, moving on. I was getting tired of having to lie, and I wondered how bad it would be if I told my dad about Andy, without saying he was a ghost or anything. Just a friend.

“We’ll be picking up Grandma Evelyn from her house before going to lunch,” Dad continued. “We’ll probably do some shopping and sightseeing afterwards, kinda let the area settle in. How does that sound?”

“Good.” I nodded, sighing quietly when he couldn’t see. I looked up and scanned the lobby as we entered, and spotted across the room, standing by the large front window, staring out with an intent yet brooding edge, was Andy.

He had to know I was standing here if I could see him. I noticed he turned his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge my presence. I quickened my pace, heading towards him while my dad departed to meet with my mom.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered when I stood right behind him, looking around to be sure no one had heard. “I am so... So sorry.”

“You should not be,” he replied quietly, his hands crossed behind his back, refusing to look at me. “I know I can’t ever be the perfect best friend. The one you can hang around with in public without hiding our conversations. And if you can’t have everything that comes with having a best friend, I understand completely that you’re lonely.”

I wasn’t sure how to reply.

“I really don’t want you to feel like this.” He sighed, voice thick with regret and discontent. “I guess that’s why I’m doing all these ridiculous trips all over the city, because I know it makes you forget for a little while that I’m not real. I’m like a disease to you... I drug you into my problems, thinking at first you’d be over it in a day when I left. But you weren’t, and now you’re hurt, and that’s on me. This whole thing is on me.” He turned halfway from the window to look at me at last, his lips pulled down into a frown.

“If I had stayed away, I can’t even imagine what you might be doing with your time right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I made you sad enough to become aggressive. And that may or may not have cost your dad his job, making you end up here,” he clarified in a quiet rough voice, eyes saddened.

“No, no... Do not blame yourself for that,” I hissed, checking that no one was looking, but I did see my parents approaching. “Please don’t blame yourself for that.” I whispered urgently. “I think we were bound to uproot at some point anyway.”

Before he could respond, my parents had joined me with confused expressions. “What are you doing over here?”

“Just looking at the view,” I replied, tugging Andy’s arm to follow them to the front doors. “Come with me today,” I murmured under my breath.

“Even after the awful asshole I’ve been today?” He chuckled slightly.

“I could never think badly of you, regardless of the things I say under pressure. We’re kinda stuck together now, anyway.”

He hesitated before pursing his lips and nodding, walking with a sulking fashion out into the blinding sunlight and scorching heat to the car parked across the lot.

My heart tightened, looking at him walk a few steps ahead of me, head down, looking like a beaten puppy, guilt still heavy in his eyes. Much like the day of the funeral, I rushed forward, closing those few feet, grabbing his hand from where it dangled at his side, squeezing it tightly in reassurance.

He lifted his head in surprise and smiled, eyes lighting up. I smiled back at him sympathetically, and kept walking, feeling his stone cold grip in my own. I squeezed back and sighed nervously for the day ahead.


	42. Shocker.

My grandmother had always lived on the bay, for as long as I'd known her. I'd never personally been to her house, but she was so proud of all she'd accomplished while doing home improvement projects on it she'd always bring a new album of photos every time she visited. Apparently the place began as a shanty shed half a mile from the water's edge, which had begun as an old crab shack, later remodeled into a cheap home which she purchased in her mid-40’s and has been working on ever since, well over 35 years.

Warm air blew through the rolled down windows of the car while we drove down the freeway. I smiled into the wind, anxiety swirling in my stomach, combined with excitement to see my grandmother.

“Ash, just a heads-up... Evelyn won’t look the way you remember.”

My mother’s words didn’t sink in right away, and I couldn’t imagine how she could change so much in the six months since I’d seen her.

The storefronts and skyscrapers degraded into manageable little apartment buildings, thinning until there were only a few houses on the outskirts every couple yards. It dwindled until there was nothing, and we drove for fifteen more minutes, my parents recollecting her last visit to us in November, and my mother reciting stories of her childhood growing up in California.

I rested my elbow on the edge of the windowsill, looking out thoughtfully. Andy did the same.

You know that sense of déjà vu you get when you know you’ve done or seen something before? I felt it wash over me in a wave as we neared the beautiful home. Neither of my parents spoke, neither looked at it in recognition, but I just knew in my heart it was the one. We pulled into the driveway, the sound of dry gravel crunching under the tires until we rolled to a stop a few yards from the front porch. A small, beautiful trail of stepping stones with hand prints, and trailing soapwort separated us.

The air was still and quiet aside from the chirping of some birds. I took notice of my parents’ stance. Their hands entwined on the center console, giving each other a gentle, reassuring squeeze, similar to the one I did with Andy. It concerned me. Their nodding and silent ‘it’ll be okay’ gestures were making me giddy to get out and investigate.

I climbed out, setting foot on my grandmother’s property for the first time ever. Turning slowly, I took in everything, years and years of hard work finally paying off. A small pond of koi lingered on the right side of the large lawn, shaded by a cherry blossom tree, fully in bloom, sending wafts of an unbelievably sweet smell through the air.

Small garden statues were casually situated around the yard, making it appear very warm and welcoming, saddening me briefly that I’d never gotten to visit as a kid. Running around, playing in the pond? That would have been heaven.

Turning back, I quickly became confused as the situation unfolded. Someone stood on the front porch, but it was not my grandmother. In fact, they were not familiar at all. It was a man, maybe in his late twenties, wearing what looked like white nurses’ scrubs. He had an ID tag clipped to his shirt pocket and his arms crossed. There was a tight, uncomfortable smile on his face as my parents approached the front porch.

“Uh...” Andy hesitated a step behind me, confusion creasing his forehead. “You know this guy?”

I shook my head, looking back at the man.

“Er, hi...” My dad began, stopping a few feet short of the stone pathway, looking up at the man in confusion.

“Hello. I’m Michael Travis, Evelyn Hastings guardian. Can I help you?”

“Whoa, guardian?” My mom shook her head, trying to catch up. “What do you mean guardian? When did this happen?”

“Two weeks ago. May I ask your relation to Mrs. Hastings?”

“I’m her daughter.” Mom narrowed her eyes a bit, taking a step closer, sizing the man up warily. “Where is my mother?”

“Your mother is in good care, Mrs…?”

“Hunter,” she replied flatly, unconvinced by his nonchalant tone. “Sandy Hunter.”

“Mrs. Hunter, I can assure you-”

“I don’t want assurance,” she muttered, stalking up the last of the stone steps and shrugging past Michael into my grandmother’s house. “I just want to see my mother.”

“Er, Mrs. Hunter!” he stuttered, stuck in the haze of shock as he hurried in after her. “Mrs. Hunter, you shouldn’t-”

“Call me Sandy, why don’t you?” she called back sharply from the depths of the house, a pang of annoyance in her voice.

I was quick on my feet and bolted in, seconds after my dad. I felt dazed, trying to catch up with what was happening. Trying to read things and understand why my grandmother had a guardian, and why she wasn’t the same... It was just a cold, wasn’t it?

I walked around a blind corner, hearing my mother’s faint muttering.

“- I have every right...”

“Things got out of hand in a hurry...” Andy said as he followed me through the maze of unfamiliar halls. I paused, looking both ways at an intersection of cream colored hallways, listening for a familiar voice, before sharply turning right, following to the door left half open at the end.

Pushing it open, I froze up in surprise. Michael stood a few feet back from a bed, and the whole bedroom seemed to be some sort of cosy sunroom.

There was a lot of tension, Michael anxiously waiting for us to get out, muttering under his breath now was not the time. I peered around him to get a good look at the unfamiliar withered woman in the bed.

“Huh?”

The woman, frail as a blade of grass, gingerly looked my way. Her eyes, still the same bright blue, widened and a soft smile spread across her face.

“Asheen, my dear, come here, come here.” She gestured as urgently as she could. I hesitated, completely baffled. She looked nowhere near how she had only six months ago... She looked ready to fall over in a stroke.

My palms were sweaty and my heart was racing. Everyone was looking at me expectantly. My parents looked very edgy, reading my expression, trying to judge if I would run out screaming to hide myself away in a tree, or if I could step up and deal with this substantial change.

I swallowed hard, trying to breathe, trying to concentrate. It was too much to comprehend at once. My grandmother’s patient smile waited, still soft, sweet and kind.

I jumped a little at a soft, cold touch. Frozen fingers curled into mine, and another reassuring squeeze followed. I looked a little to my right, and Andy nodded once, nudging me forward a bit.

I slowly unfroze, twitching back to life as things began to make sense again. I pulled one foot forward, and hesitantly approached my grandmother’s bedside.

“Grandma,” I spoke, but it came out in a breathless whisper. I gratefully sat down in the wooden rocking chair Michael pushed forward, the man looking like he’d burst at the seams with all the anxiety and tension.

Her smile brightened, still dimmed and hidden behind the layers of falling skin, wrinkles cascading down her face, cheekbones very prominent.

“Just some trouble, is all,” she reassured quietly with another smile. She reached for my hands, and I accepted them in relief, surprised to find her grip strong and steady, as opposed to her appearance.

She looked aged by ten years, a saddened glimmer to her eyes as she read my face. “Ah, I’m so sorry, dear. I’m a mess.” She chuckled softly. “But I don’t feel that way. Just a little ill.”

“A little is an understatement...” Michael muttered.

“Would you mind your own business for a moment?” My mother snapped at him, glaring. Clearly fed up with the man already.

“How are you enjoying California so far?” she wondered, oblivious to the tension between my parents and her caretaker. “Quite the change from Utah, isn’t it?”

I nodded, looking down at her hands, frail and wrinkled. It was hard to grasp how much she’d changed. It felt like an episode of Scooby-Doo, you were just waiting for her to pull off the mask and laugh, saying she was only joking. But she never did.

“I hear a career change brought you all out this way. Although your visit is a bit unexpected, I’m happy to see you all, all the same.” She patted my hands reassuringly.

Andy hovered over my shoulder, and I could hear him sigh. “I’m sorry, Ash. This must be so hard...”

I closed my eyes for a moment to get my bearings, before opening them and giving my grandmother a warm smile. “I’m so glad to see you.” She smiled back, just as bright as I remembered.

“How are you feeling, Mom?” my mom asked her, concerned. Reaching out to touch her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m feeling like it’s time to get out of this damn bed.” She sighed with a weak laugh, gesturing towards Michael. “Michael, dear, help me up, please?”

“I don’t-”

“I’m giving you a fair chunk of my retirement money and you’re not giving me my final wishes?”

He floundered, put in a position where he had no reply. “That’s what I thought. Now help me, please?”

He did so, grudgingly. He guided her up into a more comfortable looking sitting position.

“What’s the agenda for the day?”

“We were thinking lunch,” my mother replied, and I could see out of the corner of my eye Michael’s face scrunching up at the idea. “Alone, of course.” She narrowed her eyes at him a little, and he stared back in surprise, looking as though we’d expected him to tag along so he could whine and bitch about how reluctant he was to go.

“Ah, that’d be nice.” She sighed, smiling fondly. “I could stand to get out. Michael, dear, get me some fresh clothes please?”

I watched him go to her wardrobe to pick out her outfit, reading into his behavior that he was reluctant and even a bit stuck up. I looked away, back to my grandmother. Even with her rather dreary appearance, she was in high spirits, still strong despite the gloomy aura of weakness that seemed to settle over her like a mist.

“How have you been, my dear Asheen?”

“I’ve been fine, Grandma,” I almost whispered, swallowing. I cleared my throat, racking my brain for something more positive to share. “I’ve just been thinking about college things and such.”

“Oh, and what do you have in mind?” Her blue eyes sparkled excitedly.

I looked down at her hands drawn in mine thoughtfully. “For now, I’m thinking about music. I enjoy it a great deal.”

A proud smile engraved itself into her withered face, and her eyes sparkled with pride. “Ah, Ash, that would be amazing.” She smiled enthusiastically. “You’ve always been very passionate about music. Would you do production, as well?”

I chuckled nervously and gave her hands a soft squeeze. “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet, but I hope to get into all of it.”

“Well, I love you and will support you no matter the decision.” She gave me another genuine, prided smile before looking past me. “Are we ready?”

“Er, yeah...”

I glanced back at Michael, standing awkwardly a few feet back, fiddling with the fabric in his hands.

“We’ll give you a moment,” my mother spoke up, excusing us from the room. I squeezed her hand one last time, committing it to memory before rising from the stool and stepping out into the hall with Andy and my parents.

We headed to the family room, which was easily as beautiful as the rest of the home and property. It seemed like almost every wall in the house was sheer glass, always overlooking some beautiful ornament in her yard, whether it be a fountain, sitting area, pond or some fantastic flowering tree. It was clear my grandmother had an eye for detail and creating visually pleasing scenes which appealed like eye candy.

It was easy for me to forget Andy wasn’t a real person when it came down to my parents. I had opened my mouth, about to speak his name, only to clamp my trap shut to prevent another weird scene. He stood in front of another window, viewing the sight of another blooming cherry blossom tree on the other side of the glass, looming just below the birch wood deck bordering the exterior of the house.

I could hear my parents whispering their conversation, and I heard their voices lower further when they mentioned me. I pretended not to hear, reaching absently to touch and play with the vibrant purple potted orchid by the window.

“- I don’t think she was expecting that... Maybe we should have prepared her better.”

“Everything will be fine,” my dad reassured her. There was a small pause when I assumed they probably hugged it out briefly before my grandmother came in. Hobbling, crouched over an aluminium walker, with Michael guiding her down the halls, she was full of spirit and strength, more than I could see when she was tucked away in that bed. But there was still the undeniable look of exhaustion on her face, in the purplish bags under her eyes and the countless creases in her skin, branching off one another like an Aspen tree root system. Still, she found the strength to smile at us once she entered the room, and I smiled back uncontrollably.

“Well, I’m ready. Michael, I should be fine for today. Thank you so much, dear. Here.” She pulled a small, neatly rolled bit of money from her clutch purse. Patting his hand, she whisked him off. While he looked relieved for the extra cash, he seemed hesitant to leave just yet.

“Do you have an adequate transportation for her?” Michael questioned my father.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sure she’ll still fit in the backseat,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm to his tone, garnished with a tight smile to play it off. Michael narrowed his eyes a bit, but said nothing else.

“I’ll be back this evening to check in. Have a nice afternoon, Evelyn.” He said goodbye as he left.

“You, too. Thank you.” She then looked at us with a great amount of excitement in her expression. “You cannot imagine how excited I am to get out of here for the day.”


	43. Embarrass.

“Michael? Oh, he’s a sweet boy,” Grandma Evelyn vouched for her guardian nurse as we made our way through the outskirts of Berkeley. “The hospital assigned him to me after my accident. I refused to go into care, and my physician deemed me partially capable of caring for myself, with some supervision. So he was the alternative of going to a nursing home. If I ended up there, it would just depress the crap out of me.” She smiled wryly, sitting by the window seat opposite to mine, Andy wedged between us.

I watched him watch her, his brow scrunched up in concentration as he listened to her speak, combining her sweet, grandmotherly “dears” and her rather blunt curses into the same sentence without batting an eye.

“Your grandmother has a colorful vocabulary,” he said, pursing his lips, pressing his fingertips together and nodding awkwardly. I resisted the urge to laugh out loud at him.

“Um... Mom, do you think you’ll ever be ready? For a home, I mean.”

Her forehead creased a little. “Why, Sandy? I’m doing fine. After I recover from this, I’ll be good as new.”

“I’m just guarding against the worst,” my mother replied gently, keeping the tension in the car to a minimal. “Things can go awry at any given moment. I just don’t want to feel unprepared when that moment comes.”

“Hmph... I’m fine, dear, but I appreciate your concern. If I can keep on like I am, I hope to never end up in a home, spending my very last days in my home.”

I looked up sheepishly to see the corner of my mother’s face turn down in disapproval, but she did not push it. Instead, she clicked on the radio to fill the awkward silence. I lifted my hand, casually covering my lips, concealing the knowing smile when I recognized the tune.

“So light ‘em up, up, up. Light ‘em up up up.”

I snuck a glance at Andy, and his expression showed he knew it as well. I nudged him in the ribs and laughed under my breath.

“My songs know what you did in the dark, so light ‘em up, up, up!” he wailed, throwing his arms at the ceiling, hitting his confinement with a thud. His reaction made keeping quiet and staying calm much harder than it was before.

I ripped a snippet of paper from my paperback copy of a Harry Potter book I’d brought along, quickly scratching a note, then passing it to him.

Had no clue you liked Fall Out Boy.

He laughed, his infectious smile not wavering as he replied, “It’s an on and off thing, I guess. I always enjoyed their music when I was in high school.” He shrugged. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“We should visit the Alluki Beach today, if you have the time,” my grandmother spoke up, looking fondly out her window at a distant, glittering body of teal water. “I know my Ashbean would love it.” She looked at me and smiled, patting my shoulder before returning her gaze to the glass. I peered around her to get a better view of what she was seeing, only to have it interrupted by a collection of low brick buildings.

So I looked to Andy for an explanation.

“Alluki Beach?” he echoed. “Oh, it’s been a long ass time since I’ve been there. It’s not the same beach I was telling you about a few days ago. It’s really nice there, though. It’s controlled better than the normal beach sides.”

“I think we have some extra time after lunch, don’t we, Sandy?” my dad wondered as he drove. “I think the plan was just to spend the day with you.”

“Yep,” she replied, reaching across the console to catch his hand as they had before, sharing another squeeze of reassurance. It made me wonder if I was under-worried about my grandmother. Her appearance change was nothing short of devastating, but she seemed in good spirits, nevertheless.

“All day with you, Mom.” She smiled at Grandma Evelyn in the rear-view mirror, a smile met by an equal one from the backseat.

The last fifteen minutes of driving was fairly quiet except for some small talk here and there. My grandma asked about our drive, how long it’d taken, how the traffic was, and more questions about life in Pendant and our plans for California.

It was shortly after California was brought up that I chose to tune out their conversation. It only put me further on edge to imagine it as real. More mainstream songs played, some more annoying than others, but no one made the effort to change the station. I was preoccupied with the view and playing a discreet game of tic-tac-toe with Andy in the space between us on the seat, scribbling on a spare sticky note from my school pack.

“Do you still have the directions?” I hear my dad ask my mom, seeing her shuffle through some papers on the console before pulling out the sheet she was looking for, instructing him through the cluttered, complicated streets. It was clear, no matter what town you were in, as long as you were in California, it was always crowded.

“Where are we going for lunch?” my grandmother asked conversationally. Shifting in her seat, she elbowed Andy in the ribs sharply. He scowled, grunted a curse and rubbed the spot of impact.

“Cadaliers,” my dad replied. “Figured we should do something nice.” He shot her a warm smile in the rear-view mirror. I noticed how much my parents were buttering up the conversations. It made me concerned that I might’ve missed something vital. They almost never acted like this unless they were doing what they called ‘living in the moment’, where they savor every second with overly kind words and conversations.

I snuck another glance at Evelyn, deathly worried that she had somehow aged further in the few minutes since I’d looked at her last. I released a relieved sigh when I saw she was just the same.

Part of me feared she was aging far more rapidly than she appeared to. I bit my lip anxiously, waiting for Andy to make his move and carve a careful X into the sticky note tic-tac-toe board.

She was very ill... Far more than I could have imagined. My curiosity burned, and I yearned to ask what had caused her health decline, but I was also afraid to know the answer. Whatever it was, it could not have been caused by a simple allergy-invoked cold...

My eyes flashed to my parents in the front seat, narrowing at them warily, wondering for a moment if there was something they knew and were not going to tell me, for the sake of protecting me.

A few minutes later we slowed down and turned into a lane that passed the beach Evelyn mentioned earlier. I looked at the greenish blue water in admiration for a bit while we continued down the paved strip to the restaurant on the shore. A small assortment of beach shacks tastefully knitted together into a fancy looking eatery.

From the parking lot, I could see the massive glass walls with shimmering glass chandeliers hanging in the lobby inside. It in no way looked low-key up close. The colors were vivid, accented with sharply detailed ornaments. Employees made their way out onto the wooden deck on the back end of the restaurant, carrying trays of expensive looking drinks and liquor.

“Ash, you coming?”

Andy tugged on my arm and I looked up, realizing he and everyone else had already climbed out while I gawked.

“Er, yeah...” I snatched his hand, which hovered patiently towards me. I pulled myself out, taking a moment to smooth my skirt and return my gaze to the beautiful seafront. Luckily, my parents and grandmother were too preoccupied to notice our exchange.

“Damn... How did I ever miss this place?” Andy wondered in confusion, tugging down on his ripped band shirt absentmindedly, gawking up at the glass and massive palm trees like I was. “Seriously, my friends, Carla and Mitch, they drug me out to eat at just about every place in a thirty mile radius, and never once did we come here.”

“Maybe because it’s so pricy,” I teased, nudging him forward to walk in front of me while we followed my parents in.  
~~~

Of course, the inside had me even more star-stuck than the beautiful exterior did.

Upon entering, I was immediately graced with a combination of smells, from the sweet, fresh fragrance from the vases of orchids nearby, to the combined smells of different foods. There were waiters walking by, trays balanced on their hands, piled high with food I didn’t recognize, but the smell wafting towards me reminded me how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten a whole lot on our journey due to being so anxious about the trip, but it all came crashing down on me.

My eyes trailed up towards the ceiling, where perhaps one of the most bizarre, yet unique things I had ever seen hung.

One of those gold and glass chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, but trailing down the beautiful light fixture in graceful waves was tangled vines of ivy. Stretching out from the light, it extended like a spider-web, connecting to the marble decorative balconies above. Tangled around the small pillars, diamond shaped leafs tangled with a variety of other flowers trailing down the wall with a mind of their own.

“Wow...” I breathed, speaking to no one in particular. Tearing my eyes away, I ventured off a little from the beaten path to peek out on the patio area, which was similar, with a slated wood roof, grape vines trellising the wood bars aimlessly.

“Sheesh... Makes me feel very underdressed...” I muttered under my breath to Andy, peering down at my simple Sunday Church sundress. Its cliché blue and green diamond pattern appeared very bleak and washed out amidst the sea of faces before me. People sporting nice, crisp, pastel colored blazers, button down shirts, and fur cardigans, sipping from wine glasses like it was an everyday thing, made my Walmart clearance sundress seem very out of place, but I still felt relieved to have not shown up in a pair of jeans or shorts, because chances were these people would have probably chased me out the door with a broom.

“Ha ha, makes me glad they can’t see me!” Andy replied, his grin spreading widely as he took in his grunge band rags. Torn Alkaline Trio shirt, the sleeves looking like they’d been ripped off with his own hands, and the collection of noisy chains and patches that adorned his clothing.

I scoffed. “You’re so fortunate.”

“Table for... Four?” A young female waiter paused before us with an armload of fancy leather bound menus.

“Five,” Andy corrected with a nod and a patient smile. His face did not waver at first, and I smirked, mildly concerned as to whether or not he was joking, until he laughed and carried on after my parents as we followed the waitress to our table which was situated out on the patio, in the far corner, with a brilliant view of the sea.

After I’d taken my seat, I looked behind me, but he was gone. I muttered in frustration under my breath, looking around me, searching for his pierced face with the infectious ‘I got you!’ grin. But he was nowhere to be seen. I sighed, forcing myself to relax and turn towards my family as they ordered drinks.

“Ice tea, please.” My dad smiled kindly at the waitress as he accepted his menu, then her expectant gaze settled on me.

“Uh, root beer?” I hedged, for the first time in my life. I felt unsure as to whether or not the place actually sold the mediocre soft drink. I caught the flash of confusion in her eyes and she nodded and wrote it down anyways, her expression giving away she was confused that I hadn’t asked for some expensive wine that only someone who was fluent in French could pronounce. I crossed my hands in my lap awkwardly, pleased with the decision that had invoked severe embarrassment on my part.

I took a deep breath and looked to my left at the glistening turquoise water, when I heared footsteps approaching.

“Hello, my name is Dennis, and I’ll be your waiter today. Do you need a few more minutes or…?”

I looked up, nearly leaping back in shock. My dad noticed the surprised jolt that sent me leaning backwards.

“Ash, are you okay?” He reached across the table to touch my hand, before looking up. Directly at him, at Andy...

He smiled, but things were missing. His lip, nose and earrings gone, hair smoothed back neatly, and his war paint was gone... His Alkaline Trio shirt and torn jeans had been replaced with a crisp, freshly pressed white, short sleeve button down shirt with a long black tie, and black slacks, plus perfectly shiny, scuffless dress shoes. He smiled at everyone at the table, expression remaining patient, charming, and oblivious to my shock.

“Uh, you... You look familiar, that’s all,” I stuttered, my heart pounding out of my chest. I shot a look at my father, panicked that a stroke of recognition would cross his face too, and he’d remember Andy... Andy the dead boy. Andy, the dead boy whose funeral he’d attended only a few weeks earlier, having taken the time to look through his family photo albums.

I was relieved when the recognition never came.

“Ash...” my dad muttered under his breath. “It’s rude to stare...”

“Oh, sorry...” I dropped my eyes, not used to not being free to stare at him as I pleased, because there was never anyone else but Andy himself to catch me.

“No problem.” He chuckled, pulling a neat little writing pad and pen from his front pocket.

“I think we’re ready to order. Ash, you start.” My dad nodded towards me, putting me on the spot. I swallowed nervously, glancing up at Andy and suddenly making me very, very nervous. He winked and grinned when my family was not looking.

“Er, um, the salad?” I hedged.

“I assume you mean the garden salad?” he responded with a dismissive tone that pretty much said we did not know each other. I narrowed my eyes at him a little, trying to figure out what game he was playing at.

“Yeah.”

“Dressing?”

“Ranch.”

He scribbled down that information and looked to my dad next. I sighed in relief under my breath, looking away, anywhere but at him. All I needed was for my parents to notice my oogling, and go all ‘Oooh! You’ve got a crush on him!’ like every embarrassing pair of parents do to their kids.

“And you, ma’am?” He looked expectantly at my grandmother. She gave him her order, which he gladly wrote down, seamlessly sliding into the waiter charade.

“Thank you, dear.” She patted his arm and smiled kindly at him, always sweet and grateful. He nodded and headed towards the kitchen, where he’d probably evaporate and cease to exist again.

I scowled at him in embarrassment as he walked away, his shoulders rising and falling with laughter.


	44. Thoughts.

I watched him carefully, being mindful not to scowl and attract the attention of my family. I noticed he did not tend to anyone else, but pretended to be busy as he bustled about, smiling politely at people, moving too fast around the crowded restaurant to stop for the people who hollered after him for a wine refill.

Shaking my head, I directed my attention away, only to have it brought back when a basket of break-sticks were placed on the table by the imposter waiter. He gave a brilliant smile, asking if there was anything else he could get us. I stared at him, whispering under my breath “Why…?”

“Such a polite boy!” My grandmother smiled adoringly at Andy the way she might look at her own grandkids. I was just waiting for her to reach out and pinch his bony cheeks. “You must enjoy working here.” He eyes sparkled as she held him up to have an easy going conversation with him.

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” He smiled back, his deep voice setting off his cuddly, faked personality. In real life, he was the boy who called me an ‘emo bitch queen’.

“How long have you been in the area? I’ve never seen you here before,” my grandmother wondered, confusion creasing her forehead.

“Only just recently,” Andy replied with only half a lie. “Four months or so, I think. Only started the job a few weeks ago.”

“Well, you’re one of the kindest boys from this generation I’ve ever met,” she said matter-of-factly. “So many of them are disrespectable. More interested in their devices than their elders, they can’t even pull up their baggy pants.” She shook her head in disgust. “Almost all of them have a dozen tattoos and piercings, and dye their hair.”

Andy only smiled back kindly, his lips pursed firmly to prevent the laugh from destroying the stepping stones he’d built so far. The long sleeves and stiff collar of his white button down covered his tattoos, and he hadn’t held his hands out long enough to expose the ones on his fingers and on the sides of his hands.

“You could be a martyr for the generation. You’re very good looking, as well.” She patted his arm, then smiled at me knowingly. I ducked my head, pretending I hadn’t heard her. I peeked up to see the look of shock and surprise in his expression and almost laughed at how taken off guard he was right then.

“Er, thank you, ma’am.”

He stepped back from the table, pretending to be needed elsewhere. I thought my grandmother was already over the encounter from the fond, hazy smile on her face until she spoke up again a few moments later.

“Ash, how come you’ve never dated anyone before? That boy is a looker.”

“Grandma!” I exclaimed in embarrassment, looking around in panic to be sure Andy was nowhere nearby. “I’m not into him,” I mumbled, picking at the stitching of my dress for something to do.

Luckily, my parents appeared to be in their own little bubble for the time being, and had missed out on the encounter, thank God.  
~~~

It was twenty minutes before I saw him again, and around that time a rather confused looking male waiter came our way with our food.

“You ordered?” he wondered. My dad nodded and settled it. I looked behind the man, at Andy, bent over in a fit of gut busting laughter, his hair falling out of place, sleeves rolled up.

“Oh...” The waiter paused, then shook his head. “Do you happen to know who your waiter was?”

“He was the nice boy, Dennis,” my grandmother replied with a smile. The waiter’s confused frown deepened.

“Dennis? Huh... Didn’t think anyone worked here by that name. Apologies.” He headed back to the kitchen to gather the rest of our food. All I could do was watch Andy laugh until he was silent, squeaking every few seconds, unable to make any other noises, while he clapped like a drunk man.

I shook my head, sighing, a giggle bound to burst from my lips unless I could distract myself. Looking at my grandmother’s confusion, and then at Andy, he proceeded to cripple to the floor and roll around, kicking spastically, laughing silently, clutching his ribs.

“Get up,” I whispered to him with a smile. He pulled himself together slowly, wiping the tears of joy from the corners of his eyes. Heaving a pleased sigh, he crossed the floor and dropped into the empty seat beside me. “Wasn’t that good fun?”

“You’re positively psychotic!” I whispered back, still smiling. “Yes. Unexpected, but amusing.”

He changed the subject abruptly. “How come you always talk like that?” he wondered curiously. I paused, trying to recount what I’d said to figure out what he meant.

“Huh?”

“You always talk like you’re in a book, like a very intellectual character. Using these huge, descriptive words.” He used his hands to describe what he meant. “Like positively, unexpected and amusing. They’re all words no one really uses anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I whispered back, looking at my parents quickly before peeking over at him.

“It just amazes me how weirdly different you are,” he says with a proud grin.

“Is that a compliment?” I chuckled, my parents talking about the plans of the move to California, side-tracked.

“I hope so,” he replied with a sheepish laugh. “Seriously, though. You’re weird. I like it.”

“You mentioned once I was weird... I think it was the night we snuck out to dig up that box.”

“You also called me weird, so...” he countered with a shrug.

“It’s not shameful to be weird,” I say with a slight nod. “It sets you apart from everyone else, but also makes you a target to be bullied because you’re different.”

“Do you know why people bully?” he wondered out loud. I had a pretty good idea, but I figured his theory was probably different than mine, so I shook my head.

“Because they’re so insanely jealous that they’re not brave enough to do the same,” he concluded with a thoughtful smile. I stared at him for a moment, contemplating his words as they spun in my head. I had never thought of it that way, always in a rational way. That most people only bullied because they thought it was funny or attention-getting.

But it very well could have been the same, and it brought a privileged smile to my face as for the first time in weeks, I embraced my weirdness. The indifference I had towards everyone else, I held it close to my heart with a discreet smile and thought about all the weird things I had done already, but had never classified as weird. At least, not until now, when I really, truly thought about them.

“Better quit smiling or your parents will suspect something is up and will keep a very close eye on you for the rest of the week.” He nudged my arm and nodded towards my parents. My dad looked at me straight on, curiosity and confusion in his eyes.

I dropped my eyes quickly before he could see the startled fear and slowly forced the smile to disappear, but I still felt the amusement. Once his gaze had drifted elsewhere, I nudged Andy again.

“Why exactly did you do this?” I wondered, pulling at the sleeve of his nice white waiter’s shirt.

“I warned you,” he replied with a wicked smile. “I warned you the night I cut my hair that I had plans. Oh, such wonderful plans!”

“Wonderful plans,” I echoed with a quiet scoff.

His grin only grew wider in response. “Unfortunately, that’s the end of my pranking for today. But there’s still six more days!”

“Oh no...” I sighed, shaking my head, looking up at the vinery draped around the wooden beams. Slanted splinters of brilliant, warm sunlight were shining through. I could only imagine what other things he had in mind. The pranks... Then again, I would be seeing my evil twin cousins in a few days. Maybe he’d put his ghostly powers to work? I smiled at the idea of Daryl and Danny shitting themselves over a vase hovering in the middle of the living room with no explanation.


	45. Favorites.

“So, what have you been up to, Asheen?” my grandmother wondered, lifting her condensation-coated glass of ice tea with surprising strength I didn’t know she possessed.

“Oh, um...” I paused to rack my brain to come up with something positive. The longer I thought, the more disappointed I was to find they were only troublesome things, and my parents’ frowns deepened.

“Writing songs,” I finally replied when every other unique thing I had done had involved being grounded, or Andy, our fictional waiter.

“Oh, really?” she inquired with great interest. “What kind?”

I wanted to tell her about how I sang at the funeral, but I feared my parents would put two and two together and recognize Andy. It was in everyone’s best interest that I didn’t mention anything pertaining to the funeral.

“A variety,” I replied, not going into much detail. “Just writing different things, trying to get a feel for it.”

“Don’t forget the amazing adventures spent with your ghostly best friend,” Andy added with a fond smile. “Sneaking out, doing highly illegal things that would have landed you in the backseat of a police car, at best.”

I almost shot him a glare, and elbowed him instead. His laughter replaced his words in seconds.

“I think it’d be great to do music. A few weeks back, some friends I have in Pendant let me play a set with them at a café. It was something I never imagined having the chance to do, but I’m glad I did,” I continue, clipping out the part about being sexually assaulted by that asshole... A shiver ran down my spine, remembering it. I masked my expression well, shaking my head dismissively. I worked to erase the visual from my memory.

I hadn’t noticed until my grandma had grabbed my hands and encased them in hers with surprising strength that she’d taken them at all.

“That’s wonderful, Asheen. You must come play for me someday.” Her smile was kind, sweet and adoring, and absolutely impossible to say no to. With a pursed smile, I nodded at last.

“Okay, okay, sure. I will.”

The waiter returned then, still looking a little baffled. He put on his best professional attitude and addressed us. “How are we doing? Can I get you any dessert? We have apple pie today as our special.” He even flashed a nice smile to sell his advertisement.

“Sure, why not?” my dad responded, seeming very cool and calm at the moment. Not acting much like the rigid man I remember making the two-day trek to California with.

I took another moment to look at my surroundings, still in awe at how beautiful it was. Just as I begin to think about how serene the whole city must be, Andy seemed to read my thoughts and weighed in.

“In case you were wondering, no, the whole city and state is not like this.” He chuckled, ruffling his short brown hair briefly, making the neat combed-back style he’d worn while pulling off his waiter charade disappear in the waves of tousled locks.

“In fact, depending on where you go, you’re more likely to find a heroine needle and syringe than a nice view to admire.... Sorry.” He laughed when he saw my peaceful smile falter.

“But in all honestly, yeah, California is a nice place to live, if you can afford it and put up with all the shit that goes with it.” He shrugged.

“I mean, when I lived here, I just likened all my bad touring experiences to California, because they were pretty much the same thing: drunken nights, trick girls, being late to everything and always living life loud and impatiently. It’s really just about learning to weave through those things.”

It made me curious for a moment, and an hour’s worth of questions popped in my head, but I very well couldn’t ask them right then, so I made a mental note of them for later.

“If I had to pick a favorite thing about California, though, it’d have to be the sunsets. I love the sunsets here. Of course, they’re a far cry from anything back in Pendant, but they’re really unique, colorful and beautiful here. Though, everywhere in the world has its own special sunset, but from the ones I’ve seen, California ones are my favorite.”

I noticed he had just started rambling, and was speaking mostly to himself, but the way he phrased his love of sunsets was fascinating to listen to.

The waiter returned again, carrying a tray with our dessert. When he set down mine, I waited until my parents were preoccupied, then I chopped the slice in half and flipped it over onto a napkin, discreetly pushing it in Andy’s direction until he scooped it up and it disappeared from the sight of my family.

Of course, like everything else the restaurant had offered so far, the pie was wonderful, and if I was being brutally honest, it was the best I’d ever had. Andy was far less graceful eating his as he inhaled it from off the napkin like a vacuum, and still he managed to make a mess. I handed him another napkin without looking at him, trying to maintain a calm posture as he accepted it and scrubbed his face.

“What else are we doing today?” I wondered, taking one of the clean cloth napkins we had, aimlessly trying to fold it into a swan like my first grade teacher Mrs. Simmons had taught us while we were studying Japan. You know, back when school was fun and cool. The fabric failed to comply as I pinched and pulled at it, trying to replicate the creases I hadn’t made in years.

“Hmm... We could visit some of the stores on the beachfront?” my mother suggested as she addressed a cheque for the cashier. “There’s some souvenir shops in the village, isn’t there?” she asked my Grandma.

After thinking about it for a few moments, she nodded. “Yes, I think so. There was also a few clothing shops, if I remember right.”  
~~~

After we’d left the restaurant, we took a moment to get a family photo near the railing in front of the entrance. Andy grinned brilliantly, propping up a pair of bunny ears behind me, even though the camera wouldn’t pick up on it.

It was kinda sad to think about, actually. He really threw himself into his poses, and he looked alive. He acted so fully aware, I silently wondered if he was actually joking or had just forgotten his circumstance.

After that, I’d offered to get a picture of Mom and Dad with my grandma. It wasn’t that I thought it’d be the last picture they’d ever get, it was that I felt like it could be... And it terrified me. To look at my grandma, years of wisdom, bad-assery and strength rolled up in a very frail looking package. I frowned a little after I snapped the photo, and looked up to see Andy looking at my grandmother in what looked like deep concentration. His eyes narrowed a little, then he dropped them. They weren’t filled with hate or suspicion, but sympathy. My heart lunged and I feared he knew something I didn’t.

Looking at my parents again, they were laughing and having a good time, even as they pushed her wheelchair towards the car. I frowned again and jogged to catch up to Andy.

“What was that?” I whispered.

“What?”

“The way you were looking at her.”

“Huh? Oh, it was nothing.” He shook his head and sped up a little. His tone sounded the opposite, actually.

“You know something,” I accused. My voice came out in a shrill, panicked whisper.

He shook his head again, and his features relaxed and he looked at me the way a parent looks at their kid after they tell an inappropriate joke in front of family. Annoyance, concern, and a hint of amusement underneath it all. “No, I don’t,” he confirmed again, reaching the car before I did. I huffed a sigh and pulled open the back door so he could slide in on my side. I looked from him to my grandmother and back again. I didn’t catch him looking at her again.


	46. Holding On.

Alluki Beach was located a mile and a half journey up the road from the restaurant. It definitely felt more isolated and away from the rest of California, more like how the brochures always depicted it to be, and less of the drug-addict crowded scum land Andy told me stories about.

The sand glittered as we drove closer to the boardwalk, eventually pulling over. I got out immediately and took in the glorious view, almost admitting out loud how correct he’d been about Alluki. The place was stunning.

“We’re going to the shops on the boardwalk. What are you doing, Ash?” my mom asked as she straightened her purse strap on her shoulder.

“Uh...”

“Come on a walk with me,” Andy suggested, though it didn’t sound like as much of an offer as it did a demand.

“Er, I think I’m going to walk down the beach for a bit, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Just meet us here or on the boardwalk in an hour.” She smiled at me one more time before turning to join my father as he pushed my grandma’s wheelchair up the plank pathway to the stores a few yards ahead.

Turning to Andy, I expected him to be wearing a devilish grin or a smirk of some kind, and to accompany it a smartass remark. But instead he had a mellow smile on his face and absolutely nothing to say.

“What’s up?” I wondered when he wasn’t immediately his joyful normal self.

“Let’s walk,” he suggested, jogging down the steps to the sand. I hesitated before following him. The last time he’d had a mood swing like this... Was the day of the funeral. I feared what he’d have to say.

We walked in silence for a while, getting closer to the water’s edge with every step. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, because something between now and the restaurant had set his happy mood aflame.

“So...” I sighed after a while, looking out at the water where a brisk, briny breeze rode the waves towards us.

“Yes?” He peered sideways down at me, and I frowned a little as I realized exactly how short I was next to his giant-like stature. I wrung my fingers together thoughtfully while I conjured up the confidence to speak.

“I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to talk to you, actually.” I sighed, trying to relieve some of the tension I felt in my chest.

“Something better than this morning, I hope,” he said jokingly, but when I looked at him, his eyes still carried the bitter hurt. He looked away first, avoiding my gaze, pretending to look at the rainbow colored stones that bordered the water’s edge.

“I hope so, too... I really don’t like to fight with you. You’re the only person who’s ever fully understood where I was coming from. But there are some topics we need to go over, otherwise I just don’t feel like the rest of this trip will be smooth sailing for either of us because of the tension.” I put it out there matter-of-factly, but also hesitantly. I just wanted all these thoughts off my back and in the open. I could tell from his expression he knew we needed to talk, too.

“I agree,” he finally replied with some hesitation. “But before we even say one word about any of it, I need you to be entirely honest with me. Can we both put everything out in the open without judgement?” His walking slowed, and he paused mid-step, curiosity and concern flooding his expression.

I scratched my arm absentmindedly and nodded. “Of course. I want to just... Get it all out of my head, you know? I’m sure you probably feel the same way.” I felt awkward putting him on the spot.

“Okay...” he breathed, and continued walking. Silence ensued for another minute or two. Salty waves rolled up the beach with the tide, washing over my feet, surprisingly warm.

“I guess we should start from the beginning?” he hedged, tucking his hands in his Prophet jacket’s pockets. I nodded for him to continue.

“Okay. To start on level ground, you understand, one hundred per cent why I chose to stay hidden that week?”

I hesitated and raided my thoughts for any reason to object. He’d already said it was for his own well-being, and not mine. He didn’t want his decision to go to waste, to find out after he gave up his one chance at the afterlife that I’d only liked him because I sympathized with him.

I understood his reasoning, even though I did not agree with them. It irritated me slightly that he hadn’t been straight-up from the get-go and asked me if I really valued his friendship or not. With what was on the line that day, I would have been one hundred per cent honest with him, whether I actually did or not.

“Yes,” I finally replied, “I do.”

“And secondly, do you forgive me for it?”

I hesitated for a second when a flashback hit me of me hitting Elizabeth, the one human friend I ever had, out of my own anger and spite. Those terrible, depressed seven days were the worst of my existence. Like I was waiting for him to send a postcard from Heaven or something. It was the not-knowing that killed me.

I stopped walking and looked him in the eyes. He looked worried as he fidgeted, becoming more concerned as the seconds passed.

“Yes.” I sighed. “Yes, because I understand why you chose to do that.”

He sighed a little in relief. I didn’t know what else to say on the topic that wouldn’t end up branching out into another argument.

“Can I ask you a question?” I wondered hesitantly.

“Shoot.”

“How are you... So comfortable with death? Especially your own?”

He pursed his lips in thought as he walked. The sun glittering in his eyes made them appear a much brighter shade of blue, and the breeze rolling off the waves knocked his hair back from his forehead.

“I don’t know... I never really thought about it. I guess from the moment I knew it was final, I accepted it. Figured that it was meant to happen and that was that. To be completely honest though, I think I would have had a much harder time coping with it had I not been distracted. Not trying to sound corny or anything, but hanging out with you made me feel alive, and it made me forget. That walk to Apture, I was very unsure what to think, because the experience was entirely new, and that to me is living – doing something you’ve never done before. I’m not saying distraction is the best way to handle things, either. Sometimes it’s good to just face things.”

He paused for a moment. “I don’t know... Maybe I was already attuned to the idea of dying, that it didn’t affect me as badly as someone who wasn’t. I never fantasized about death, but I didn’t fear it, either. I just figured it’d come eventually, and when it did, well...”

He didn’t continue, and I couldn’t decide if it was because he was getting choked up and hid it well, or if he just had nothing left to say.

“But...” he began again stiffly, “comfort towards all death, not just my own... I think it’s because I believed that people I’d seen die went somewhere worthwhile. At least, I hoped so. Guess that kept me occupied for a while.” He shrugged again, at a loss for words.

I hesitated before asking another question. “...is that part of the reason why you love sunsets? Comfort?”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully as he paced the beach beside me, kicking up little waves of sand with every step. “In a way, yes. But not quite...”

I glanced at him to see if he was going to elaborate, without looking pressing.

“To me, sunsets have always been final. The end of something, the end of days. Whether the day you had was flat out terrible or the best one you could imagine, it all comes to an end with a beautiful view.”

“There isn’t always a sunset, though,” I disagreed thoughtfully.

“True, but you know there’s one. If its overcast and you can’t see it, you must assume there is one, just because the sky is getting darker to welcome night and all its stars.”

“But sometimes you can’t see the stars, just a... Black, endless void.” I frowned a bit, imagining the sadness I felt looking at the sky on a night like that. It just felt depressing to look up to the night sky and not see a single, shimmering spot in the darkness. “And assuming is dangerous.”

“It can be... But I think a better word is chance. Taking a chance to believe, and hope there’s a sunset to end the day. Even if you can’t see it.”

I paused. “I’m confused... What exactly do you mean by that?”

He thought carefully as he chose his words. “I guess what I mean is... Even if you can’t see something happening, doesn’t mean it isn’t. There’s change always happening, and while you may hate the grey clouds blocking out that bit of dying light, you’ll still get the stars in the end, which is the happy ending. And if you can’t see the stars, like the sunset, you know they’re there, and put confidence in them, and look forward to sunrise instead. Point is there’s always something to look forward to, every day. Life isn’t over because of a hardship here and there, that’s what makes you human, is when you have the patience and trust to wait out the storm, to see that brilliant sunrise, sunset, stars, whatever it may be.”

I was taken aback by his sudden burst of wise words. Normally Andy handled issues with jokes and putting his ghostly powers to use, but instead he took a solid five minutes to explain this really deep concept of sunsets to me. I hadn’t realized that I’d stopped walking until I noticed he stood a few feet ahead of me, waiting for me to start moving again.

“Wow...” I finally said when all other words failed me. “Where’d you come up with that?”

“Just now, I think.” He scratched his forehead. “I was beginning to realize it as I thought about it.”

“Hmmm... So you’re one of those people who pull their intellect and wise comments out of their ass?”

He let out a loud cackle of laughter. “Absolutely.” After his smile faded, he collected himself. “But on a more serious level, I do mean it. This, this whole trip, everything you’re going through, it won’t last forever, and there’s always something to look forward to.”

“True...” I sighed as I began walking. “Unfortunately, most things are just illusions for me. Smoke in mirrors, false hopes laid down just to fool me.”

His eyebrows pulled together in thought. “Have I fooled you?”

I hesitated. “Not you, exactly.... Ugh, it’s weird and embarrassing... Forget I said anything else.” I sped up my steps a bit, trying to come up with something else to talk about.

“Ash, wait!” He jogged the few feet I’d put down between us. “What do you mean? Ash!” He grabbed for my shoulder to stop me and spun me around to face him. I buried my toes in the sand, looking at my feet while my face proceeded to turn a pinker shade of red the longer I was left on the spot.

“Ash?” He laughed, pushing my shoulder a bit, jokingly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I don’t know why it’d be embarrassing.

I sighed, and took a deep breath. “You didn’t fool me... I fooled myself,” I finally said, unwillingly, wringing my hands together awkwardly. “The first time we actually ‘hung out’ together, it was the strangest thing ever... And with every time afterwards, I started to forget. Or maybe I just blocked it out or whatever, but I forgot that you aren’t real. You’re not really here, breathing the same air I am, baking in the sun, getting a sunburn you’re going to regret later. To anyone looking, it’s just me standing here, talking to myself. I’ve fooled myself into a false setting of security and friendship. Of course your spirit is here, and I value your companionship very much... I just...” I stopped to catch my breath, looking at the sun reflecting off the water. “I wish you were really here. That when I hug you, your skin wasn’t ice cold, and I could hear your heart beat. I wish so badly for you to be alive, to be able to age again, grow your hair and cry real tears, to live the life you deserve so, so much... And every day, every time you make me laugh, it just hurts so much more.”

I pulled my hands apart and wiped at the frustrated tear that had managed to track down my face. Stifling a pathetic, embarrassed laugh, I sighed. “This is ridiculous, I- I shouldn’t have said anything...” I mumbled, not bothering to actually look at his face. I turned away again to face the water, trying to distract myself from the pang of hurt and pent up frustration building in my heart, threatening to send another hurricane of tears to ruin the nice moment of friendship-bonding we’d been sharing.

It was an awkward, silent two minutes before he said anything else.

“You mean that?” His voice came out quiet and unsure, the deep rumble of his voice bearing a sense of vulnerability I’d never heard before, and it took me off guard.

“That’s... Wow.” He just paused for a moment to gather himself. “I’m at a loss for words, actually... I’ve never had anyone say anything quite like that to me before, living or dead. Yeah... It bums me out too, that we couldn’t have been friends before all of this, but I really want to make it up to you any way I can. But I know my stupid shenanigans could never mean as much to you as having me physically exist in the same world you do. My existence is limited, and it uses more of my energy to remain visible for a larger group of people. It would be impossible for me to go on to live a normal life ever again.” He heaved a frustrated sigh.

“But we’re both still fucked up people, right?” he almost whispered the words, and they sounded hesitant. A small smile came to my face.

“Of course...” I murmured back. “I am still the emo bitch queen, and you are still an asshole.” I didn’t turn around, but I did jump when I was abruptly enclosed in a secure hug. Andy chuckled as he hugged me tightly.

The happiness faded from the embrace to one of fear and concern. I wrapped my arms tightly around him, his body still just as cold as I remembered. No heartbeat, no sound...

“It does scare me, though... All the things I’ve seen while I’ve been dead. There is so much more to it, that you wouldn’t believe... And it just scares me that one day, out of nowhere, I might not exist at all.”

I froze up at his comment. “Andy... What do you mean by that?” My fingers gripped his back tighter in fear he’d disappear right then, leaving me to hug the air, alone on the sand of Alluki Beach.

He froze up too, realizing he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to. “Er...”

“Andy.”

He sighed, and I could hear the wind move through his chest as the gust of air exited, but nothing else.

“It’s random... Some ‘good deeds’ bullshit. If you’ve been a ‘good ghost’ they’ll randomly yank you from whatever fictional life you’re living, and toss you into whatever otherworld exists...”

“How do you know that? Did someone tell you?” I whispered in confusion.

“Not exactly... When it happened, when I died, through all the lights, and me standing over myself, I could hear it, the words in my ears. They didn’t make sense and I thought I was insane... It’d be impossible to explain without making it sound farfetched as all fuck.”

Just the idea... That one day, no matter what, he could be gone... It terrified me. He was the one true friend I’d ever had. The one person who I felt I could tell anything, without judgement or scorn.

A few moments passed; a seagull flew overhead, squawking obnoxiously.

“So... One day, you could just be gone.”

A moment passed before he answered with a sigh. “Yes.”

“And you have no idea how long that’ll take?”

“No...”

Realization crashed down on me, and I gripped him tighter than before, until my arms ached, my fingers grew stiff and my own lungs ached for air because of the crushing exchange. Panicked tears filled my eyes.

“Hey, hey, we still have today, and tomorrow...”

“You don’t know that,” I whispered, voice full of sorrow.

He didn’t reply, but I felt him tighten his arms and press his face into my hair. Soft, cold tears fell from above as we shared this pathetic, horrifically sad hug. It made me fear how many we really had left.

“I have an idea...” he finally breathed after a few minutes. “I will need your help.”

“Okay... Name it, whatever it is.”

He finally pulled back, and I let him go, reluctantly. “It involves causing a lot of havoc.”

It wasn’t surprising, really. And despite how amusing and like him the comment was, a smile did not rise to my lips. I only sighed and contemplated the stress of the burden he’d placed on my shoulders. I didn’t blame him for telling me, because as far as I could tell, he’d been keeping it a secret for some time.

“Hey, cheer up. Let’s go explore some more. Need to dry those tears before your parents see them. Come on.” He wiped my cheek and grabbed my arm, and with a brief struggle yanked me up onto his back awkwardly, laughing crazily to relieve my fear. It dissipated a bit, but still lingered.

“Your parents are probably missing you. Want to head back to explore some of the shops?”

“Sure.” I sighed, frowning when he wasn’t looking.


	47. Reflecting.

“—maybe she’d like this one better. It’s turquoise, like her birthstone.”

Stepping into the nice, air-conditioned souvenir shack on the pier, I spotted my parents and grandma by the jewelry, examining a few different pieces.

“Hey,” I greeted, alerting them of my presence.

“Oh, Ash! You’re back early.” My mom hurried and fumbled with the necklaces in her hands, discarding them awkwardly on the shelf.

“What’cha doing?” I peered around her, but her and my father’s shoulder pressed together to keep what they were looking at a secret. I narrowed my eyes at them suspiciously. “Okay, you’re up to absolutely nothing...”

They nodded in confirmation. Andy stood beside me with a jaded look, narrowed eyes. “They’re definitely up to something,” he confirmed with a slow nod. “Your birthday is in December, right?”

“That’s right,” I confirmed, my parents already having returned to bickering under their breath about which one they thought I’d like better. I drifted away from the group, since I felt kinda bad for eavesdropping.

“Huh... You’ll be how old?”

“Seventeen...” I shrugged. “Ew. Then after that eighteen, then college, trouble and issues to plague me for life.” Sighing, I made my way towards the collection of gaudy figurines. Cartoon seals holding different signs with cursive letters forming the names of different cities and places in California.

“The fact that people actually buy these things...” I picked up one of a seagull wearing swim trunks, turning it around in my hands.

“Hey.... I like the seagull,” Andy defended, snatching it from my hands to admire it himself.

“You can’t be serious.” I narrowed my eyes at him in amusement.

“I’m dead serious,” he replied without wavering. “I actually really like seagulls.”

“Any particular reason…?”

He ignored my question as he smiled fondly at the dorky hunk of sloppily painted ceramic.

“All right...” I sighed, drifting away to explore more. I found a small rack of CDs from the early 2000’s at the front of the store. Old CDs no one really listened to anymore, like NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, an old Rihanna album and a lot of Avril Lavigne. I thumbed through the albums, a lot of the names familiar, but none really stood out to me.

Starting the third row of CDs, I flipped through them until one in particular really caught my eye.

“Destination Beautiful...” I breathed the title, admiring the album art for a moment. A picture of a townhouse, photo-shopped with a green and blue filter. “Mae.”

Picking up the album, I flipped it over, reading over the tracks a few times. None of them sounded familiar, which relieved me. I needed to try out some new music, something entirely and utterly new. Untainted or nudged in any direction because of a song I’d heard beforehand.

Holding onto that one, I searched more, flicking through album after album, the radio droning on in the background began to play a familiar song.

“Glass table top for two  
Shatters across the room  
It’s been this way,  
It stays this way,  
Since June.

“Gravity pulls me in  
Further from my skin.  
I run but my feet don’t touch the ground.

“If you’re letting go,  
Let me go, slowly.  
If you’re letting go,  
Lay me down, softly.

“Smoked out the back room,  
To get rid of the scent of you...”

The song was called “Letting Go” by the band Mayday Parade. They weren’t my favorite band, but Elizabeth lent me their CD once, a while back... I smiled at the memory.  
~~~

“Ash, check this album out!”

“Why?” I sighed, looking down at the strand of hair I was tying up in a messy braid.

“Because to be honest, your music scares me... Plus, I think you’d like them.”

“Fine, okay, who are they?”

“Mayday Parade. Ever heard of them?”

“I have.” I nodded. Their name came up every now and again on the Warped Tour setlist, even though I wasn’t entirely sure what genre they were.

I looked up to watch her hop off her bed and cross her room to her dresser, where her CD player was, along with a nice mess of CDs. She sifted through them and found the disc, then grabbed the case from the shelf above the desk. Clicking the disc back into place, she slid it across her bedspread.

“Try them out.”

I narrowed my eyes at the cover art suspiciously. “What genre?”

“Does it matter? You listen to everything, anyway. Hey, I actually have to go to a dentist appointment here in an hour. Take it home, listen to it, and just bring it to school tomorrow. Okay?”

I hesitated before picking up the jewel case, turning it over in my hands thoughtfully. “Okay, sure. I’ll check it out.”

“I need to walk up to my mom’s work in a few. I kinda spaced it out, sorry...”

“No problem.” I shook my head, turning over the case in my hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yep. Unless I’m abducted by aliens between now and then,” she joked, grabbing her jacket and filling her backpack with things she’d need.

“All right.” I stood up from the bed, stretching briefly. I slid the CD into my bag and pulled on my jacket. “See you tomorrow then. Bye, Elizabeth.”

“Bye, Ash!”

~~~

Popping the disc into my CD player skeptically, I plugged in my headphones and pulled out my school text books and got to work on my homework while I listened. After the first couple of songs, I finally let my guard down and enjoyed the music.

That’s the strange thing about me: I am really weird about getting into new bands and artists. If it’s something outside my comfort zone, I tend to avoid it for the most part, and listen to the same old 2000-2007 era albums over and over again, even though there was half a decade of new and amazing music to be heard and tried out.

Within another half hour, this new song played, opening with a nice acoustic intro. Smiling to myself, I listened to that song on loop a few times, then the album again before ripping it to my computer, making a mental note to thank Elizabeth in the morning when I saw her at school.

~~~

I took a deep, thoughtful breath, surprised by how much it saddened me that I didn’t hang around or talk to Elizabeth anymore. We were once inseparable, but despite all the time spent together, I never really felt like we knew each other. Of course, we knew the basics, but not the in-depth stuff that makes a relationship of gold.

Acquaintances.

That’s what we always were, I guess... Maybe I was just used to friends always coming and going around me. Either because they moved, or found a better group to hang with, or I did something a little too weird for their tastes and they moved on.

Maybe they were smart to do so, and I’m insane. It’s a possibility, and as much as I embrace my weirdness, it would still be nice, from time to time, to experience true friendship. Have someone to have nights out with, and talk to through college years.

An All American Rejects song took the place of the Mayday Parade one, and I broke out of my daydream daze, gathered the small stack of albums I found, and went to find my parents. Andy joined up with me shortly after. His gaze lingered on my grandmother’s frail face, his eyebrows cinching together in concentration. I nudged his ribs and narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him.

“You’re doing it again,” I accused. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he replied innocently, shaking his head. “It’s really nothing, please drop it.” He walked away from me, leaving me stunned. I almost called after him, stopping myself just in time.

“What’s up with him?” I murmured. Shaking my head, I went to the register to check out. While I waited, I looked around myself at the small store. Sea shells hung in a criss-crossed garland across the ceiling, with small white Christmas lights. Tiki decorations were left to fade in the front windows of the shop with an old clearance sign, the neon cardstock fading to a soft pastel shade of its former color.

Handing the cashier a ten dollar bill, I watched as she slid the three albums into a small, dark blue plastic sack, handing it to me with a fake smile. “Have a nice day,” she told me with a rehearsed tone, like she said it dozens of times a day. Nodding and returning the kind words, I made my way outside of the shop to wait, lingering in the cool shadows in front of the glass windows.

There was a lot to process, and I had no idea where to begin. However, there was one thing that concerned me greatly: Andy’s shady glances at my grandmother. I wouldn’t bring it up to him again, because it only seemed to upset and frustrate him. I couldn’t put my finger on it... What it was about him looking at her. His eyes would narrow in concentration, like he was trying to see something that wasn’t there. Was there more to him than he let on? There was a great possibility of that. I mean, he hasn’t told me half the things about being a ghost. It’d be easy for him to keep secrets.

Did he have some sort of weird, healing power? Glaring at my ill grandmother would heal her?

I wanted to ask him again for a detailed description of why he stared in deep thought, but I didn’t know how to bring it up again without making it obvious that I doubted him telling the truth about it being ‘nothing’.

I sat down on the edge of the wood planking that formed a small deck above the miles of endless sand, and rummaged around in the shopping bag, pulling out Destination Beautiful again to study the album art before carefully picking at the plastic protective sleeve around the jewel case, peeling off the stickers that were holding the album together. Snapping open the case, I was greeted with the eye-candy concept art that was quite similar to that on the cover and back. Blue, green and turquoise scenes of different places, bleached through what looked like a decent Snapchat filter.

Touching the smooth disc, I turned it to the left slightly so it was straight, label upright. I smiled in private happiness as I enjoyed the moment I had every time I bought a new CD. The reveal of the inner art, the sweet smell of freshly printed paper, which for some reason was distinct to only album booklets, and the glimmer of light off the top of the disc. It was like a music lover’s high. And then, to top it off, you put on your headphones, drowned out the world as you listened to the album backwards and forwards, reading the lyrics from the booklet as you went, familiarizing yourself with choruses and verses, humming the rhythm when it became familiar enough.

I fiddled with the edge of the paper booklet carefully for a few moments, trying to separate it from the front of the jewel case without ripping it. Once I’d gotten up the bottom page, I slid it out, flipping open the cover page, looking over each page fondly, reading sections of lyrics throughout the booklet. Verses, the chorus to the fourth song, looking at the few pictures of the band inside, also colored the same way as the rest of the album artwork was.

The more time I spent looking over the album, getting pumped to listen to it, the more my worries took backseat for a bit. My constant stress and anxiety shutting the hell up for a moment while I looked over the artwork inside the book. The frustration and concern Andy had disposed on me going along with it for a solid seven minutes before the shop’s doorbell jingled and my family walked out, laughing, pushing my grandmother’s wheelchair.

I regrouped with Andy, who lingered behind them a bit.

“Didn’t you get the seagull?” I wondered when I noticed his hands empty, and his clothes lacked pockets big enough to conceal it.

“Pshh, no.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Because stealing is highly frowned upon, especially when you’re a ghost.”

I was relieved when he smiled, because it cleared the clouds. His brilliant, inhumanly blue eyes that were substantially darker than any of his family photos depicted, shimmered in the blinding sunlight. I was hopeful that he wasn’t mad at me or holding grudges.

“Where else are we going?” I asked my parents in a weak effort to remain a part of their conversation.

“Back to your grandmother’s, we think.” My dad looked to my mother for confirmation. “We’ll take a break for a bit, maybe go see a movie later or something, then go out to dinner. Today is kind of our ‘free day’.”

Nodding, I let that set in, and had an idea. “Want to walk in the gardens when we get back? I’ve never been in a garden like that, but I always wished my parents had one like that. Especially when I was younger, all I wanted in the world was not a pony, surprisingly, but a fantasy garden, with ponds, fish, bridges, the whole bit.”

“Really?” Andy echoed in surprise. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to be into fantasy things. You always seem to be living in the present.”

“Yet...” I drawled out, “I’m friends with you, a mythical creature.”

“Creature.” He scoffed. “You could sell me to the Smithsonian, make millions and retire at twenty. Why keep me around?”

An awkward pause came. “Do you want a joking reply or a real one?” I hedged sheepishly, unsure what he was hedging towards. Instead of answering my question about his, he laughed.

“Never mind, don’t worry about it. Anyway, you wouldn’t have much luck getting me to willingly stay at a museum. You’d get the money, I could up and disappear, and we could spend the millions together. Sounds like a good plan.”

“Sounds like a good way to end up in jail,” I replied.

“Always thinking logically.” He laughed, looking straight ahead.

“Oh... Sorry.” I wrung my hands together awkwardly again, the conversation veering off again into a place it could not be recovered.

“Why? There’s nothing to be sorry about.... Please don’t tell me that when you were in school, you were always one of those kids who apologized for being themselves.” He narrowed his eyes at me, cutting blue irises demanding an answer I knew too well. I dropped my eyes immediately in embarrassment and sadness.

“I’m not, and never was, the kid ‘with all the answers’. The one who always knew how to act to makes friends and get people to like them, the one who always knew what to say. People would look at me weird if I even used an out-dated term like ‘dude’ while working on group projects.” I took a deep breath and sighed, deciding it wasn’t worth pursuing. “Anyway, it’s not like I’ll ever see those kids again, not if everything goes as planned.” I shrugged, dropping the uncomfortable topic.

Andy could say all he wanted about always being the outcast and being weird, but the thing is he always has the right words, the right expression. He knows when to smile and when to frown, which makes him far more approachable and social than I could ever dream, and that was the difference between us.


	48. First.

The afternoon was hot. Hotter than any day I could remember back in Utah. Of course, summers there were brutal and sent you running for the nearest air conditioned building, but at least we didn’t have the humidity that the people of California had to endure, every day, all year.

Now I would have taken that as a comforting thought if my impending doom had not crashed down on me, reminding me I might end up joining the blistered skinned people of Berkeley.

As we drove back to my grandmother’s house on the other side of the city, I looked out the window at all the outdoor-active people walking about. There were joggers, people on bicycles, people walking dogs, food vendors and people just enjoying the nice weather. The one thing they all had in common, if not their activities, was their identically colored reddened skin. They probably wouldn’t feel the burn until long after they’d gone home to realize they’d forgotten suntan lotion.

I was pretty used to Pendant’s mellow population on the ‘unsocial’ side of the river that divided the town into two separate parts. There was a person walking or jogging here and there, but there weren’t a lot of exercise freaks like there seemed to be here.

Well, except for Jason Downey, my fifth grade history teacher. He was always a bit weird, and I was relieved to have finally raised a grade to get out of his class. He was the classic hippie. Had long, brown hair that always looked kinda greasy, talked in a low, chill voice, and in the summer time, if he wasn’t prancing around Pendant in one of his skin-tight jogging suits, he was loading up his every possession into a cliché, multi-colored van, driving all over Utah and the surrounding states to play small acoustic sets on street corners.

He was a health freak, as well. Always eating this organic crap that looked like baby shit during lunch break. And sometimes I’d sit a bit too close to the teachers’ table and catch whiff of it. I couldn’t quite ever tell if he had no sense of smell or if he just didn’t realize how terrible the stuff smelled, but he would down it without so much as a wince while reading the school newspaper.

Those weren’t the only weird things he ever did, either. I was 90% certain he bought weed during lunch break, as well... Because he was always the strangest during the history class following lunch. Words got mixed up, and he laughed a lot and couldn’t get mad if he tried. Of course, the other, uneducated kids jumped to conclusions to slap the heaviest label on him that they could manage, saying he smoked heroin, but they should have known at least that you can’t smoke it.

The fact alone that the school never caught on was bizarre, which launched the next part of the kids’ rumors. They claimed he got the teachers to keep quiet about it by trading drugs with them, and the whole school was run by drug addicts, which wasn’t true, but it caused enough trouble to get Jason fired shortly after. Mostly because kids were going home and telling their parents the extravagant tales about their second period drug-addict history teacher.

My attention was drawn elsewhere when we finally pulled off the road, into the small driveway area in front of my grandma’s house. The day had gone by so quickly I struggled to keep up and recall everything we’d done, and wondered if we’d made the most of the time we had with her.

“That was delightful!” She smiled as my dad helped her out of the backseat and into her wheelchair. “Michael usually just brings me food and whatever I need. I haven’t been anywhere in sometime. Maybe when you all move out here we can do it more often.”

I looked into her hopeful blue eyes and forced a smile. She looked so weak, but I couldn’t even bring myself to think the negative words.

“Yeah, of course,” my dad agreed with a nod. “Want some tea made? Coffee?”

“Some tea would be nice.” She nodded slowly as he pushed her up the slender concrete path to her front door.

“She isn’t doing well,” I whispered sadly once my mother had closed the glass front door behind them. I remained frozen at the foot of the path, unable to make myself move forward and enter the house and home of my dying grandmother. “I just don’t get it...” I sighed, shaking my head, combing my fingers through my hair slowly. “It was only a few months, a small cold over Christmas, and now... She looks like she’s on the losing end of a war.”

“There’s got to be something no one’s saying,” I murmured to myself. “My parents clearly know something, but they’re not going to say shit because they think they’re ‘protecting’ me from the pain of loss. It’s only going to be harder if I can’t say goodbye...”

Instead of going inside, I sat down on the front step of the porch, leaning against the pale yellow siding. I looked out at her front yard, built from the ground up with years of hard work and planning. There were butterflies fluttering about the flowering bushes and the air smelled overwhelmingly of sweetly scented flowers.

Andy hesitated before dropping down to sit awkwardly beside me. His narrow, tall frame, too lanky to look correct, crouched over the low step.

“My grandpa died a few years back,” he finally spoke up after a few silent minutes, his voice clear and reminiscent. “He was one of my greatest inspirations, always encouraging me to do my music, dress weird and do what I wanted with my work and appearance. He seemed to understand it, in some weird way. You wouldn’t have expected someone his age to understand, or even try. Thing is, I guess in a way, I was okay with him going, because I knew he’d always be with me... If you get what I mean?”

“She’s not dead yet,” I disagreed, already sensing what he was getting at, pursing my lips in a thin line, shaking my head. “She isn’t.”

“She isn’t getting better, either, Ash – don’t you see? She doesn’t have a lot left in her. How old is she anyway? Really?”

I looked at him, offended that he would even start this conversation. My bottom lip quivering in fear, words unable to form and throw themselves from my lips into the open.

“Ash, I’m not trying to be an ass, I’m just guarding against the worst. It could happen. It will, eventually. I just... Think you should be ready for that. There is nothing worse than something like that taking you off guard... It just... Makes you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, like there’s no air left to breathe, and all you can do is gasp and grasp for broken strings. Nothing feels attached anymore, yet in your naïve mind, everything is okay. You deny yourself closure, unable to accept the possibility of the news being true. And when you realize it is, you hate yourself for not giving in sooner. It’s just something that’s better to ease into, starting now.”

“Are you trying to make me start mourning my grandmother’s death, Andy?!” I snapped in rage and irritation, my voice much sharper than I intended. “She isn’t gone! She isn’t going anywhere for a long time, she’s getting the help she needs and will heal and recover.”

He stared at me, his sharp blue eyes narrowed at me judgementally. “Naïve,” he repeated. “And you’ll feel the worst of the pain.”

“Excuse me?” I glared at him then. “Naïve? I’m just delaying the inevitable. Everything ends, if you haven’t noticed. I’m just trying to enjoy what time I do have. With her, you, my parents, friends, everyone I know... Everyone has a deadline. If blocking out all the negative thoughts is the only way to stay sane through this, it’s what I’m going to do.”

His mouth had been hanging crooked, ready to spring another strand of rational complaints, snapped shut.

“It’s just life...” I sighed, running a hand through my hair impatiently. “Onward and forward, always. There’s never any breaks, even when you think there is. It’s just some greater power planning the next turn of events. Anyway, I’d better get inside.”

“Ash, stop.”

I proceeded to get up.

“Ash, you’re being ridiculous.”

“True,” I agreed with a weak shrug, “but I’m also tired of pretending for all the wrong reasons. I’m doing this for me, and no one else.”

“Well, that’s great and all, but it is healthy to do that?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” I muttered, pulling open the screen door and ducking inside.

I was tired of arguing, then hugging things out, being happy and then upset again. It just felt like a cruel, repetitive wheel, that I unfortunately had to be a part of. Like a destiny route in life, I was stuck.

I closed the door behind me before he could reply, otherwise we’d just relapse back into the before-mentioned rut. I could hear the faint voices of my family coming from the kitchen and sighed, trying to correct my composure before heading down the hall to join them.

“We still need to talk,” a deep voice growled behind me. I spun around in surprise. No one was there, but I could still hear his angered puffs of breath. “Ash, we can’t keep dragging things out this way.”

“I can’t live with the idea of deadlines,” I almost begged, sighing. “It crushes me just to think about.”

“Stop thinking about it.”

“I can’t!” I hissed under my breath, still trying to convey the frustration I felt. “It’s like living with a knife to my throat! ‘Oh! Who’s gonna die today? Who’s gonna leave me again?!’ Being involved in all of this, I-”

“Can we at least talk about this outside?” he bargained before I could continue. I narrowed my eyes at him and sighed, yanking open the screen door and storming back out onto the patio.

Stopping, I ran my hands through my hair to relieve the anger and frustration I felt. My emotions were hardwired to my tear-ducts, and I cried when I was angry or frustrated. Sighing, I lowered my voice to a soft, haunting level, eyes pleading. “I cannot keep on this way. You’re all about preventing mental, physical and emotional pain, but this back and forth hack-saw is wearing me thin. We can’t keep yelling, hugging it out, crying together, and then be back at each other’s throats. Tell me, how do we fix that?”

He was quiet, hands fell to his sides and his eyes dropped to the floor, face clear of emotion, but there was a storm in his eyes. Anger, sadness, hurt and frustration.

“I should have stayed away...” he merely whispered, voice cracking because of how low he’d spoken the words. My heart skipped a beat and I froze, eyes wide, mouth suddenly dry as cotton and every word I was going to speak gone, in a gust of sand and wind. I couldn’t recall a single thing I was going to say. It’s like a friend telling you they’re going to commit suicide. His whipped, crippled stature replicated it, and the punch to the stomach I felt was as bad as though he had said he would.

“What good am I?” he whispered to himself, refusing to meet my eyes again. “A friend? A few laughs and hugs? You’re right... I can never give you the things a true friend could. There’s too much trouble involved. I never should have come back, I’m only an inconvenience in your life.”

“No-”

“You aren’t the only one tired of going back and forth!” he snapped, tears forming in his eyes. My heart shattered to hundreds of tiny fragments. “I feel like a punching bag to you. You get mad at me and I have to keep smiling, all the time. I’m tired of smiling just to keep you afloat, taking all the hits to keep our relationship sound. Being a guardian angel isn’t all they say it is.” He spat out a low chuckle, but there was no humor to it.

“Guardian angel?” I echoed, my voice strained and cracking.

His eyes grew wary, and he dropped them, ashamed. “Yeah...”

“What?”

“That’s another thing,” he whispered. “Since I refused to cross over, I was assigned you, to keep you safe. You would not believe how many times you’ve almost been crushed or hunted down by some creep in an alley. It’s not that you’re a popular target, it’s just that that’s how life works.”

“That’s why you stayed?” I wondered, my voice not accusing, just curious and quiet.

“Not exactly... You know the rest.” He shrugged weakly.

“You don’t have to smile for me,” I murmured. “I’m so… So sorry.” I looked down. I hadn’t realized how much I abused him. While I didn’t punch him on a regular basis and call him cruel names, it was just my frustrated attitude towards him that wore him thin. Out of the two of us, he had to keep things afloat constantly. And with me mad at him every other second, that had to make his job a lot harder.

I looked up again and saw his pain. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, he stood there awkwardly, his emotions pouring out in clear, thin trails down his narrow cheeks.

Before me was a foreign boy; he was upset, shaking, and fearful. He wasn’t the fake, smiling boy I’d come to know. The boy I’d spent the better part of two weeks with. It was strange how familiar and unknown he felt to look at right then. All I wanted to do was hug him, and I did.

Like every other argument we’d ever had, it ended in a hug. I stepped forward hesitantly, and wrapped my arms tightly around his tense, slender frame. He jumped in surprise, but relaxed.

“I am sorry,” I apologized again, pulling back a bit. Wary, sorrowful eyes flickered to mine, and I knew that no words I could say would ever be sincere enough to get across the remorse I felt. My hands were shaking, and my heart was pounding out of my chest, my mind panicking, shouting at me to not, that now wasn’t the time, but all I could thing was that there might not be any other time.

There was a strange moment of hesitation when I looked into his eyes. But like any other time I had, a wave of calm spread over me. Another one of his strange ghost things.

But in that awkward moment, he knew, and I knew, but it was just unspoken. I leaned forward, and he did, too.

My awkward inexperience set me back. I had seen a million times how it happened, and watching it in films and TV shows, it was always simple and straightforward. If that was the case, how come it was near impossible for me to close that gap? I could see my mirrored reflection on Andy’s face as the same awkwardness spread over his features. I realized then that he wasn’t breathing, only holding his breath in anticipation, and like me, not entirely sure how to act.

They say go big or go home, or don’t do anything if you don’t have confidence in your actions. But I decided something tiny and insignificant was better than backing away from this opportunity and letting an eternity of awkwardness continue between us.

So with that last thought, I threw all my confidence and strength aside and summoned what little I knew about the action from films I’d seen, and grabbed the nice black tie he was still wearing, yanking him down to my level. I closed my eyes before I could see his expression and back out.

The deep breath I took in didn’t calm me in any way, nor relieve me the way it normally might have. I couldn’t quite make myself move beyond that, so I decided on a countdown before things could get too terribly weird.

3... 2... 1...

Squeezing my eyes shut, beyond the point that it was actually comfortable and romantic looking, I bashed my face forward, lips seeking whatever surface in front of me.

“Ow!” I exclaimed in surprise, knocking my nose into Andy’s, ruining the heartfelt moment with my clumsiness, staining my cheeks a dark shade of embarrassment.

Andy threw his head back in laughter, and I backed away from him, looking down, dropping my arms straight as needles to my side, feeling my cheeks burning bright red, my heart pounding out of my chest. My stupidity would forever mock me from this moment on.

“Haven’t you ever kissed anyone?” Andy wondered with genuine curiosity through his fit of laughter.

My cheeks burned brighter and I avoided his eyes. It didn’t really matter now anyway, because if you’ve gone and fucked up your first attempt, it destroys any chance of you ever wanting to try again.

I pouted in embarrassment, annoyed that I’d screwed things over yet again.

“Hey, it’s cool.” He continued to chuckle, which did not make me feel any better at all. “Everyone’s got a first time. Hell, my first time was with a girl six years older than me who I’d been lying just to date, and if that isn’t awkward as hell, I really don’t know what is.”

My lip twitched. I wanted to laugh, but was still wallowing.

“We dated for ages,” he recalled. I could tell he was trying to make me smile, but he didn’t sound fully happy. “I always avoided tricky topics like birthdays and whatnot, wouldn’t let her ever come to my house, because if she did, she’d see all the recent photos of me around and start to question things. I remember when we broke up, all it took was for me to say ‘Hey, so look... I’m a child’. And she was gone. Didn’t even want an explanation, she was so done.” He laughed a bit.

A tiny smile came to my lips.

“Then there was Scout. We’d been friends forever, but she wasn’t my first love. And believe me, it’s more awkward to love your best friend than anything. Getting it out in the open could really fuck things over.”

I winced, understanding immediately what he was getting at. “I screwed things over, didn’t I?”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then frowned, shaking his head. “No, no, I don’t think so. Do you want the truth?”

I sighed and hung my head further. “Not really. Shoot.”

“It would have happened eventually.” He winked, then vaporized on the spot


	49. Faithless.

I didn’t see Andy again, so I didn’t bother going outside to explore the gardens. It was strange to me how lifeless and ordinary things appeared when he was not there to comment on them.

After the bright pink faded from my cheeks, I heaved a deep, calming breath and headed in to join my family and their conversations. But as I sat at a bar stool in my grandma’s kitchen, sipping peppermint tea, I got lost in their words thinking about other things. My thoughts kept looping back to the awkward pre-kiss, and how because of it, the actual kiss never took place. It surprised me how disappointed I felt about that.

I eventually had to just excuse myself to hide in the bathroom and blush violently as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The fluorescent lights above illuminating the discolored patches on my skin brought on my anxiety and heat fluctuations. I patted my cheeks and stared into my eyes, pale green, then my hair, the roots dark black, fading gradually into a smooth emerald green shade.

I was not a super-amazing, glamorous human being, either. Andy’s last words played themselves on a haunting loop and I stared at my face trying to see what he saw. What extraordinary features he saw. All I saw was a confused girl with green hair and green eyes, poking and prodding her patchy pink face. As I observed, I didn’t notice anything that no other girl had ever had. I didn’t have a gorgeous third eye or horns, anything that set me apart.

Frowning, I finally relaxed. It didn’t matter what he saw in me, even though it made me curious. No one had ever taken an interest in me as far as I know, or maybe because in school I was always wearing headphones, I never heard those boys speak up or give me nice compliments. It didn’t matter, because I obviously saw more in him than just looks, enough to make me lean, even in failure, to kiss him.

Turning on the faucet, I poured some cold water in my hands and splashed it at my face. But once again, unlike any movie, instead of refreshing me, it soaked the top of my dress, the front of my hair, and hung in small droplets from my eyelashes. I just stared, eyes slowly narrowing into a glare as the drops fell from my lashes, carrying with them, the inky black dye of my mascara, carving terrible, jagged tear marks down my cheeks that weren’t even tears. How lovely.

I pulled a tissue from the floral print pastel box beside the sink, and wiped under my eyes, sighing. The mascara left dark shadows where it had trailed.

I took a deep breath and proceeded to clean up. Then, planting my palms against the counter top, I looked at my reflection and took a deep breath, finally ready to head back out.  
~~~

I peered out into the hall, which was dim with fading sunlight. Distant laughter could be heard, but Andy was nowhere to be seen. I hadn’t quite decided yet if I was going to avoid him after that awkward encounter.

All of that aside, there were other things I was confused about. He said he was my ‘guardian angel’ and it made me curious what exactly that entailed. Obviously I was expecting him to be similar to the ones in Christmas movies and whatnot, with oversized, plush wings, crisp white clothes, always warning poor decisions. But when I looked at him, all I saw was a fallen angel. Baggy black clothes and band shirts hanging off his skinny frame while he studied the massive amount of ink on his arms. Nothing about him screamed ‘heavenly protector’ but there had always been something about him that was defensive and protective. I had noticed it from our first few conversations.

It baffled my mind to think that all those things were true. The spirit part, anyway. Andy had never confirmed if Heaven and Hell existed, or if God and Satan were real. He always referred to them as ‘the other side’ and ‘higher power’.

From the days of my earliest memories, I had been raised to believe in the Lord, and the power of what a good prayer could do. I’d been taught not to sin, to ask for forgiveness if I did, and to always apologize when I am in the wrong. It’s something parents instil in their children early on, and most kids don’t rebel against it or think much of it.

Some kids question the reality of it, though. And that phase typically comes shortly after they realize their childhood idols weren’t real, like Santa and the Easter Bunny, typically sending the kid through some sort of pre-puberty crisis as they struggle to accept that most of their childhood is a lie, on top of the body changes they’re facing, plus, questioning the reality of their religion.

I guess half the world divided, 50% keeps on with the religion they were raised on, and the other 50% decide for themselves and explore other religions.

Being raised a Christian, and being given the opportunity to see into the world of the afterlife, just to get a fleeting glimpse of all it really is, gets you thinking. Not in a bad way or anything, it just opens your mind to greater possibilities never before considered.

As I walked down the hall, my eyes fell upon the carved wood cross hanging on the far end. The crucifix had always led me through the worst of times and experiences. I trusted it always would.

Sitting back down at the kitchen island, I listened in to their conversation nonchalantly, feeling my heart leap up my throat when I realized what their conversation was about.

“Yeah, two weeks ago we went to a funeral. For one of the neighbors’ nephews... What a tragedy.” My dad shook his head sympathetically.

“Which neighbor?” Evelyn wondered.

“The Biersacks,” he responded, clearing his throat. “Andrew and Clarisse Biersack. Andrew’s brother, Chris, his son was in a car accident while visiting Pendant over the weekend.”

“Oh, dear...” She looked faint. “I remember meeting Chris and Clarisse a few years ago, over Christmas,” she recalled. I remembered that, too. It was distant, because I was maybe eight at the time, but I remember Chris and Clarisse visiting us on Christmas Eve, bringing cookies and watching Christmas Vacation in the living room.

Dad sighed, shaking his head. No one had noticed me return yet.

“What makes it worse is on Sunday, on our way back from church, we came across the wreck. They were just...” His breath slipped away hopelessly, eyes distant with the memory. “Trying to revive him right there. Ash saw it, and I don’t think she knew what to expect. She just stood there, still as stone, watching. There was something in her eyes, trying to comprehend, to understand... After that incident, she just hasn’t been the same. She’s been distant, tired... I think it put her into some kind of shock.”

I silently slipped down from my chair and backed out into the hallway, pressing my back against the wall, I heaved a sigh and closed my eyes.

“Well, those kinds of events tend to have a lasting effect,” my grandmother added thoughtfully.

“It’s not only that...” He paused, looking around to be sure I wasn’t there, lowering his voice. “She’s been very rebellious since the funeral. Missed classes, ditched school two days, got in a fight and one day when she was ditching, she didn’t come home until ten that night. Had the whole neighborhood out looking for her.”

I could hear my dad’s Italian traits seeping into his disappointed tone. He shook his head. “I really don’t know what’s gotten into her. We grounded her for a bit, and she didn’t fight it, which was weird... You’d look at her, and she always looked like she was fighting an internal battle. Forehead all scrunched up in thought, she didn’t like to leave home, or leave her room. She’d stay in there all day, writing and reading. She’s not social anymore, got in a fight with her friends at school, now she just isolates herself.”

“Do you think it might just be a delayed reaction to the shock?” Evelyn wondered. While frail looking and full of sweet and endearing comments, she still had a hard ass side that was very protective and thoughtful.

“Who knows?”

“Maybe you should try some therapy? Get her on the right track again. Clearly something there set her off. All you’ve gotta do is right the problem.”

“Hmm, we hadn’t thought of that.” My mother sighed. “Maybe it’d help her... But if she finds out, and is upset about it, she’ll only drive herself deeper into this.”

“It’s just a chance you might need to take... I’d think it over first. Make sure it’s what you want to do before you suggest it. Maybe don’t suggest it head-on. Hint at it, and maybe she’ll make the decision for herself.”

There was a pause of silence.

“Maybe...” My dad agreed warily. “One of the problems with Ash is she’s never been a super open and outgoing person. She’s always kinda hid behind the things she loves. Always has headphones on, blocking out the rest of the world, it’s hard to get a word in. She’s hard to approach on different subjects without upsetting her.”

I hung my head guiltily, realizing he was right. I didn’t always do it intentionally, it just came with who I was and how I presented myself.

“Anyway, I’m hoping that being out here, with the fresh air and new scenery, will be enough to get her to start thinking about other things. Not just the rebellion, but her dedication to her music. I get that might be what she wants to do, and she’s good at it, but I just don’t see the logic in that career path, you know?”

My heart sank.

“Oh, I don’t know,” my grandmother disagreed thoughtfully. “I could see it working out.”

“I know, I know... But I just feel like she has an unrealistic expectation of a music career. She played with a band once a week ago, and since then, she’s been talking quite a bit about music.”

“She’s inspired,” my grandmother vouched for me, pride in her tone. “That’s one of the best ways to go about things.”

“Maybe, but having your head in the clouds doesn’t make you succeed,” he disagreed again, voice lowering in annoyance.

“She has a plan, at least. That’s more than you can say for a lot of the kids these days.”

“I guess... It’s just that most kids these days want to be doctors or something similar. Music is just a dream that inevitably gets pushed to the back burner by life,” he finished firmly. His tone hinted that the conversation was over.

My heart proceeded to lower itself into the depths of my chest while I held my breath to control the angry tears that wanted to rise to my eyes. All along I believed that out of my two parents, my dad believed in me the most, encouraging the career path I desired. Only to find out through eavesdropping that that wasn’t even the case... The complete opposite, actually.

I clenched and unclenched my fingers in annoyance, waiting for the anger to pass. It didn’t even irritate me, really, I just felt hurt and disappointed...

“Fine...” I murmured under my breath. Deciding I did not want to take part in anymore conversations, I headed out the backdoor to the backyard, letting the screen door slam with enough force to show my aggression and hopefully share with the group that I had heard.

It was childish for me to make such an exit, but when you’re in the moment, you’re careless, and don’t really care how dumb it is. I stalked down the brick path, deeper into the garden, twining downwards slowly, the path shrouded by a low brick wall that gradually got higher the further down the path I went, the edges curving around into massive flowerpots full of marigolds and forget-me-nots.

There was the low hum of insects and bird wings as the creatures made their way around the garden. The sky was growing a light shade of grey, darkening the garden.

There were sprinklers on, watering the patches of grass between the flowerbeds and decorative pieces. Ducking under the low branches of different fruit trees and cherry blossoms, I made my way to the far side of the yard, where it was divided by a white picket fence, declaring the end of my grandma’s property. There in the far corner was a massive weeping willow tree, bent protectively over a pond of koi fish.

As I approached, I looked down at the water, the sunlight glistening off the multi-colored backs of the fish as they swirled around under the sparkling surface seamlessly.

Stepping around the edge of the water, I went under the tree and sat on the white column bench and looked at the water thoughtfully. There was a small shelf of waterfalls at the point of the pond, pouring filtered water into the greater body, making the water lillies that sat atop the water ripple with the vibration of falling water.

It was peaceful, and nice, yet lonely... It reminded me of the many times I’d visited Apture alone. I’d sit in the rain for hours, penning down new lyrics, never speaking a word. Luckily there were enough sounds in nature to keep me from going insane.

Those were strange days... And as I thought of them, the stranger they seemed. It seemed impossible to imagine I once led a perfectly normal life. Even if that life was only two and a half weeks ago, it felt like fiction to look back on it. Impossible that there had ever been days that I awoke without someone in my room, nights I hadn’t snuck out and caused trouble. Like listening to someone else’s life, mine was no longer anything like that.

Who was that girl? I wondered as I saw my reflection in the dark water in front of me. She looked ragged, strung out, and nothing like the sweet thing from two weeks ago. Who was this girl becoming? Who was I becoming?

I hugged my arms, and a fish leapt above the water’s surface, shattering my reflection in a collection of rough splashes.

Maybe what happened back then didn’t matter. I could, and should, be living for today. Doing what I want and being happy all the while... That would be easy if there weren’t so many people disagreeing with my choices.

“Ugh...” I groaned, dropping my head into my hands.

“Ash?”

I looked up immediately, searching for the source.

Andy was perched above me, in one of the branches of a huge cottonwood tree on the other side of the water, his leather clad feet dangling down, face drawn in a sheepish expression.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry... For yelling at you.” He cleared his throat before continuing, his deep voice rumbling with sincere words. “I’m just frustrated, tired and stressed... Guess right now you understand that feeling better than anyone.”

I didn’t have a smart ass reply for him, so I just looked sullenly back at the water. “It’s okay.” I murmured.

“I heard what your dad said...” Andy murmured after a moment, pushing himself off the branch, falling from the tree without any look of fear, until he landed on the balls of his feet. He walked slowly around the pool to sit beside me with a huff, leaning back against the tree.

“I did, too...” I murmured quietly, not looking away from the fish. “I thought he believed in my dream.”

“Dream?” Andy echoed in confusion. “Wait, which conversation are you talking about?”

I looked up in confusion. “There’s been more than that one?”

“Well... Yeah...” He floundered, scratching the back of his neck.

“What about?” I demanded. My voice cracked, betraying my hurt.

“Different things...” he said reluctantly. I could see in his eyes how bad it was, and why he didn’t want to say anything.

“Oh...”

“He gets frustrated with you... Wants you to do something similar to his or your mother’s job. He doesn’t understand you, and is still disappointed in you. He said he wishes you would like the neighbor boy, because he has a good family. He wants you to have a good life, but doesn’t understand what you want to get that.”

I was quiet as I took in his words, surprise taking over anything I had planned to say.

“The neighbor kid?” I echoed quietly. “Thomas,” I recalled his name thoughtfully. “I guess he’s okay. He’s always playing sports or volunteering for something. He never appealed to me. Always came off as a sweetheart who would be agreeable on everything, without any real self-substance. I’m not surprised that he’s disappointed, I just heard the same thing...”

A breeze sifted through my hair, pushing it out of my face. “I didn’t know he felt like that. He wasn’t even diplomatic or anything... He just... Put it out in the open.” I gestured weakly with my hands. “I guess that’s just his nature. To be a hard-ass Italian. I never ended up with any of his heartless traits. He can be so cold sometimes. And harsh...”

Wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulders, Andy leaned into me, looking at the water with calm, bright blue eyes rimmed in dark makeup, freshly applied. “I guess I’m lucky my family was so supportive... My peers weren’t, but I didn’t really care what they thought. Family is different, because their support could change everything. For better or for worse.”

“What can I do?” I murmured, my voice distant as I thought.

“Try to change his mind?” he suggested. “He’ll have to come around eventually.”

“Unlikely.” I frowned, sighing. “I’ve never had much luck motivating anyone to change their opinion on something.”

He shrugged a little in thought. “I dunno, you changed my mind.”

“How so?”

“Preppy girls,” he clarified, using his hands to describe. “They’re all the same in my mind. You’re different.”

I scoffed. “A bad different, I suppose.”

“No. No way...” He shook his head firmly, looking down thoughtfully. “A good different. Like a deep breath of fresh air after being cooped up in your bedroom for days, ill with a cold. That first, deep breath that changes everything.”

“I’m a deep breath of fresh air?” I clarified with a limited smile.

“More like oxygen itself,” he complimented, grinning at me brilliantly, infecting me with the warm feeling of happiness I’d been lacking. “Air I breathe, and the reason I stayed.”

I was skeptical of where his comments were going.

He pulled me into a tight, emotional hug. I wrapped my arms tightly around him and disappeared into his embrace. Out of sight, out of mind for anyone searching for me. He pressed his stone cold lips to my forehead in a firm seal of promise, before resting his chin atop my mess of awkward emerald green and black hair. Breathing fondly, he finally spoke up.

“I’ll always stay,” he concluded, his voice final and certain. Those three words erased my doubt and softened my heart. I relaxed, letting the harsh words of my family and peers sift into the background while I thought about those simple words. A promise. A promise that would cost a lifetime of commitment, protection and care. Something I valued beyond words. I couldn’t bring myself to speak any words in reply, so instead I squeezed him just a little tighter to assure him I’d heard.


	50. The Funeral.

I squeezed tighter, burying my face in her shoulder, keeping it together, I breathed in her sweet floral perfume. Saying goodbye to my grandmother was far more difficult than it had ever been. Given her current state, leaving her side then, when the day out was over, was like tearing myself in two.

“It’s was great seeing you all.” My grandmother smiled at us. I finally pulled away, forcing down the remainder of the pent up emotions that were plaguing my heart and mind.

Everything felt like a hazy dream... I didn’t quite feel myself walking away, placing myself in the backseat of the car. I didn’t register the rain drops splattering against the window beside me, or the other doors opening as my parents climbed in. All I could think about was what my dad had said. He met my eyes in the rear-view mirror, and they lit up with false pride. I dropped my gaze.

Nostalgia came over me in a wave as I stared up at the storm clouds. Like the week Andy died, it had rained every day, and was always overcast. It carried with it the feeling of that week, and reminded me of all the good times we shared that week.

The bright blue sky I’d been looking at all day faded away under a murky wash of varying shades of grey. It felt more like home, and melted away the homesickness I was beginning to feel. I just imagined the streets we were driving on were the desolate ones in Pendant. That the snotty store tenders were actually the kind, smiling folks I grew up knowing.

My parents asked what I wanted for dinner, but after some thought, they just decided to order pizza and have dinner at the hotel. Sounded good to me; I couldn’t ‘people’ anymore today.

When we got back, thunder was rumbling. A huge, dark storm-cloud loomed over the hotel, swirling furiously. I crossed the cracked asphalt parking lot, and rode the elevator to the third floor, where I separated from my parents after a brief ‘how was your day?’ conversation. It killed me... Every time I looked my dad in the eye, all I could see was disappointment that wasn’t there, and I could hear his words looping in my head. It was enough for me to duck my head to hide my hurt until I was walking down a hall different from theirs, heading back to my room. Andy walked by my side, in a normal fashion. He was calm, not grinning or skipping or anything obnoxious. It was just like walking with a good friend.

“You know what?” he piped up as I inserted the hotel key into the slot, the lights blinked red and I tried it again.

“What?”

“We should just watch a movie and hang out.”

He didn’t say it as a suggestion to overwrite anything I had planned. It was like taking a deep breath, and deciding to just relax instead of running around Berkeley causing havoc.

“Sounds good,” I agreed when the lights finally turned green and the door unlocked. “You can pick out the movie, if you want. My laptop is in my bag, and there should be an HDMI cable you can take from the satellite box to connect it to the TV.”

He nodded in confirmation, deviating to go find the said items while I grabbed my clothes bag and dragged it into the bathroom. Shutting the door, I looked at my reflection again. Makeup smeared and out of place from the long day, my hair, which had started out with nice, precise curls, was now a frizzy mess because of all the humidity.

I started by brushing through my hair in long, strict strokes, I pulled my hair downwards, trying to change the puffy condition. When I realized the frizz wasn’t going anywhere, I just grabbed a hair tie from my bag and strung it back carelessly.

I tossed the summer dress aside, relieved to be changing into something more comfortable. I got my black and purple Scorpions t-shirt from my bag and the grey sweatpants I had. After changing, I wet a wash cloth and wiped the eye-shadow and fake blush off my cheeks, revealing more of myself with each wipe.

When it looked like I’d removed every trace of glitter from my eyelids and scrubbed off the remaining eyeliner, I put everything back in my bag, to exit into a dark room, illuminated by the flatscreen on the wall.

Dramatic music played, and on the screen the camera panned over a rusted, moisture coated manhole cover, up the cliché sides of an old apartment, with all the ladders and staircases on the terrace, up to a rooftop. The camera followed the edge of a red brick building. In the darkness, there was a figure standing by a steaming smoke stack. Turning dramatically halfway, it revealed the pointed tips at the top of the black mask, and the mouth, twisted in a dreading frown. The Batman logo flashed across the screen.

“Predictable.” I sighed, walking across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Andy sat cross-legged on the floor, staring up at the screen like a little boy seeing his idol.

He didn’t respond; he just stared at the screen. It didn’t matter though, because there was a knock at the door. I jumped up, flipping on one of the bedside lamps, and went to the door, pulling it open. It was my mother, smiling, with a pizza box and a bottle of Pepsi.

“Try to get to bed at a reasonable time,” she warned me with a laugh as she walked in, seeing that Batman was playing. “I didn’t think you liked Batman?”

“Oh, just thought I’d check it out.” I shrugged.

She set down the pizza on the small table in the corner. “We’re heading over to Mickey’s tomorrow at one, so you have some time to go swimming or shopping, whatever you want to do, before we leave tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” I nodded in agreement. “Thanks.”

She smiled, kissed my forehead and headed for the door. “Goodnight, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After she’d left, I went to investigate the food.

“Hungry?” I called to Andy, but he was enthralled with the movie he had undoubtedly seen dozens of times. “Oi!”

“What?”

“Hungry?” I repeated, waving a paper plate at him.

He cracked a smile. “We’ve already gone over this, but sure.”

I guess it just came down to me acting that way. It was still difficult to comprehend that he was never actually there, so the only way I could really cope with it was treating him as human as possible, by offering him food at all times and letting him sleep, being quiet when he was, and treating him like if he leapt from a cliff, he would die, so treat him with respect at all times, which is just a general rule.

We sat next to each other on the floor, eating pizza, drinking Pepsi, staring at the flatscreen. It was sometime around ten when that film ended. I took the opportunity between movie switches to go brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

He chose The Bride of Frankenstein this time. I climbed into bed and turned off the lamp. I lay there, staring at the flickering black and white screen while my lids gradually grew heavier and harder to keep open. I fought against my exhaustion, trying to remain involved in the story, but all it took was for me to blink, and the weight of my eyes closing, just kept them closed.

~~~

The sky was hazy, thick with storm clouds. They churned angrily, barrelling towards me like a bull, eyes dark with rage.

I couldn’t quite move. I stood, mesmerized by their dark beauty. My feet remained planted, and I stared at them, moving at a slow, but steady pace. The closer they got, the more the wind picked up, tossing the upper branches of the cottonwood trees around me viciously. Yet, despite the growing danger, I couldn’t pull myself away, nor look anywhere else but the sky. Brilliant and beautiful, yet dark and dangerous to tamper with.

I wasn’t sure what it was, but I suddenly felt this pulling sensation, pulling me away from that spot. Like a hand in mine, it guided me away from that dark meadow.

I followed my instincts, into the trees. There was no path, nor any sign anyone had ever travelled this way before. Yet, despite my uncertainty, I continued to tread forward, bare feet patting against the damp pine needle floor slowly.

I lifted a hand, pushing aside some low branches, stepping into a clearing. The sky was overcast here, too. Wind whipped branches and my hair across my eyes, blurring my vision. I pulled it back, and studied the scene in front of me uncertainly.

There was a gathering of people in dark clothing standing at its center, hovering around something in the middle. Hesitantly, I walked forward, wary of who they were. The closer I got, the more I could hear them, the cries. They were crying. No, sobbing. Wretched tears and agony could be heard as I drew near to where they all stood.

I couldn’t make myself speak or form words. I just moved forward, into the crowd. They divided silently, faces lost in the shadows of the black hoods they wore, and in their hands, they clutched small golden medallions in one hand, and lit pillar candle in the other. I paused to look and the medallions they held. It appeared to be a familiar looking star with elegant looking loops around the points. I had seen it somewhere before, but was unable to place it.

I turned, and kept pushing onwards, gently pushing aside the cloaked figures as I worked my way to the center.

When I got there, my heart sank in realization. There was an elaborate funeral set up, a stone coffin resting on a dark stone pedestal, a large cross cut out of the upper area. That wasn’t the strangest thing about the arrangement, though.

There was a light shining from the cross cut-out, shifting with shadows and dust, as if the sun itself was shining through.

The faces of the mourners revealed themselves, the shadows of their cloaks residing. Their faces drawn, but calm, all eyes on the magnificent stone coffin.

I realized then that there was no sound, not even the wind. I watched them shift and turn, forming a small, respective crowd a few feet away, in front of the coffin display, a line of people lined up to view the body. It made me curious. Who in the world could it be in there? The coffin’s lid was opened, and one by one, mourners stepped up, bowing their heads in silence. They whispered prayers, crossed their hearts, dropped something into the coffin, and moved on.

The coffin’s lid obstructed my view, and the crowd in front of it made it impossible to even steal a sliver of a glance at who rested inside. My heart was pounding, and there was the uneasy churn of butterflies in my stomach. Something about the scene just made me uneasy.

I took notice of those approaching, and saw a girl with long black hair, face half shadowed by her hood. Unlike the others, she smiled. Perhaps at a good memory or other event? I couldn’t be sure. She reached forward, in the same way many others had, to leave a token behind, but unlike the others, her hands were empty.

I stood up on my tippy toes in an effort to get a better look. No one else seemed to see the swift, calculated movement of her grabbing the star shaped pendant from inside the coffin, tucking it into her jacket before walking away.

“Thief!” I shouted, shoving my way into the crowd. I don’t know what compelled me to do so, or even bother trying to do anything. It wasn’t really my problem, yet I felt like it was my duty to defend it.

People started to turn in shock, trying to identify the thief. Their lips trembled, but I couldn’t hear their words, only my own.

“Stop!” I shouted at the girl, who’d stepped away from the coffin, looking calm, but eyes wide with panic.

The crowd had disbursed enough that I could get right next to the coffin. I peered down at it, to feel my heart sink at the sight of the familiar war paint, and the still, cold body lying inside.

I don’t know if seeing Andy dead was what fuelled me to get back the medallion, or some other force entirely, but all I knew was that I needed to get it back.

I pushed my way through the crowd, keeping my eyes trained on the girl. She backed up slowly, searching the crowd in panic, trying to remain discreet as she slipped away from the scene, moving closer to the forest edge.

“STOP!” I shouted again, louder than before, my voice echoing off the trees, sending a swarm of birds fleeing to the sky. That wasn’t what made my heart freeze, though. Because the moment that word left my lips, everyone, including the thief, dropped dead.


End file.
